


Before Winter-Fall

by TrashqueenofAngmar91



Series: Of Shadows and Tenderness [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, And a bit dense too as you shall see, Angst, Blood and Injury, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Fourth Age, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Headcanon, I had to get this out of my system, Implied Sexual Content, In which the MVPs are a boy and a hawk, Love Letters, Reader is a woman, Reader is of the race of Man, Tags will be added as the story goes along, The Silmarillion References, The Valar throw Men a bone every once in awhile, This’ll be hella corny and lame but I don’t care, Witch-king was of the line of Elros change my mind, reader is stubborn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashqueenofAngmar91/pseuds/TrashqueenofAngmar91
Summary: Three years have passed since the fall of Sauron. Time has healed you somewhat but your heart still aches. Yet now you find yourself more confused than sorrowful when a strange letter is brought to your attention.Yes folks, this is canon to the storyline and is the true ending!
Relationships: Witch-King Of Angmar/Original Female Character(s), Witch-King of Angmar/Reader
Series: Of Shadows and Tenderness [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/806124
Comments: 18
Kudos: 37





	1. The Curious Note

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, why not. I decided to rewrite the ending of my story, sort of. Initially, Witch-king was supposed to be (spoilers!!!) dead for good at the end of “The House of Angmar” but I decided to give it more of a happy ending because, Hell, 2020 was and continues to be a horrid year and people need their Nazgul husbands LMAO. 
> 
> There’s a bit of a plot to this but it’s a small story and will only have a handful of chapters so don’t expect anything too epic or long. And if I get more ideas, I may do a little expansion of sorts after this. I’m garbage and the internet needs more Witch-king/Reader stuff so I’m gonna do my duty. 
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoy it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are already plagued by one mystery so naturally another must haunt you.

Before Winter-Fall

Chapter 1 The Curious Note

(The Fourth Age, three years after the defeat of Sauron. July.)

"That's rather kind of you, thank you, Angwen."

"I had to seize a piece for you before our brother could devour it." The girl chuckled. "He's growing far more rapidly than what I prefer. I almost wish he'd stay small and young forever!"

You smiled and nodded your head. Venarion was indeed growing up too fast for your liking. Now he was encroaching upon manhood and neither your or your sister were prepared. Already, you missed the days when he was so small, meek and quiet. Out of the three of you, he still was the most soft-spoken and solitary but it was sobering and also frightening to see him grow up before your very eyes.

Stealthily, you shoved a particular pile of papers under a book, trying to conceal them from Angwen. You were in no mood to be given another lecture from her. She already pried into your personal project a few times before and she voiced her displeasure with it. You chose to ignore her, not wanting to let her words weigh on you. As far as you were concerned, she was almost twenty and had no right to dictate what you would do in your spare time.

You then turned your attention back to the slice of apple pie that Angwen managed to confiscate for you. It did look tempting and you were indeed flattered she delivered it to you. Sometimes you had forgotten to bring a meal with you whenever you departed to the library you managed and either she or Venarion brought you something to make sure you would be fed. They were concerned and caring siblings and you felt blessed to have them.

But from how she stood and remained silent, you knew that something was on her mind. Her eyes were stern and she was gazing at you expectantly.

"Sister," you stated, leaning back in your seat, "speak. I know you have something to say. I've known you long enough."

"When will you come back home?" she asked rather tersely. "It's been two days."

"Tomorrow evening." You picked up the provided fork and scooped up a piece of pie onto it. "It is late and I'm wont to return home tonight."

"Why?"

"Because the library opens early tomorrow and it is late as I've said."

"Yes, it is late but I've taken the liberty of coming down here to bring you the last piece of pie."

"You're more than welcome to remain here with me overnight. Venarion will be alright by himself until the morning."

"He's still a child, Isilmë. He's our youngest sibling."

"Then you may return home if you are concerned about him." You maneuvered the fork into your mouth and hummed in delight at the taste of the pie.

"I want you to go with me."

"I am reluctant to do so." You chewed and then swallowed, not wanting to speak with your mouth full. "I promised Mister Elderberry I would take good care of his library and I intend to keep to my oath."

Angwen eyed the desk you sat at. You acted casually and continued eating the treat, not caring what was on her mind or what she had to say at the moment.

"I know what you're up to," she asserted.

"Yes, I'm eating," you rolled your eyes.

"Do not be coy or stupid, Sister. I am more than aware of your labors. As much as you would like to keep me in the dark about it, I am not."

"It is your choice to pry into my pressing matter and inquire about it, Angwen."

"Because you are consumed by it. A few months ago, you've stayed here for over a week."

"I know I may be acting selfish and neglectful…"

"Mother would be most displeased if she were still alive and saw you doing this. Father wouldn't stand for it either and neither would Grandfather."

Your appetite was diminishing for as long as she discussed this task of yours. You were tired, grumpy and becoming impatient with the lack of leads and progress. The books at your library had exhausted all of the information you could possibly gather from them pertaining to the topic at hand. You would have to look elsewhere for the precious knowledge you sought.

Almost a year ago, you wrote a letter to the keeper of the archives of Minas Tirith, beseeching him to allow you access to it. You kept your business semi-concealed, stating you wanted to investigate and study the complete family tree of the Kings of Númenor from Tar-Minyatur to Ar-Pharazôn. You explained you wanted to write a book of your own about the lost island so you could circulate it at your library. You further noted it would help to educate the locals and teach them about their long forgotten heritages. Not only that, the sources and information you had were incomplete despite the fact they did help you. You only sought more complete, numerous and detailed information.

You received a reply sometime later and the current keeper of the archive, Amrod, greeted you and granted you permission. He bade you to keep his letter and use it as proof of your permission to visit and peruse the collection. Amrod said that you were welcome at any time and the tomes, books, scrolls and other matters were at your disposal.

You penned a response, thanking him and explaining you hoped to make the journey sometime before the end of next year. You said you needed to make proper arrangements for someone to take over your business in the meantime and make sure your charges were properly provided for in your absence. But you stressed your gratefulness and said you desired to visit Gondor at your earliest convenience.

Angwen and Venarion knew of your intention to make the journey to the White City. While they were happy to see you were willing to part from the library, they knew of the matter that ate at you. But they didn't grumble too much, hoping you would find your answers at Minas Tirith and gain closure and satisfaction. Perhaps, if you went, it would bring you peace. And if you would achieve this peace, you would not spend long and lonely nights in the library and thus come home more often.

"You also must visit Veronica," she said. "She is very heavy with child and you know she is due to give birth any day now. It's been two months since you've last seen her."

"I know," you replied. "But she shouldn't be troubled by me visiting. She and Brandir are busy preparing for the birth of their son or daughter."

"She has expressed a desire to see you again. I saw her a week ago at the market and she told me to tell you to see her soon. She would come to visit you here but she cannot wander from home while she is so gravid. She cannot give birth to her baby in the middle of the road, Isilme."

"Then I will go visit her tomorrow evening when I close the library. I'll bring her some flowers from the garden, that should help brighten things. I will also stop by the bakery and fetch her some warm, fresh bread. I am sure she would like something like that."

"Good, I am glad you will go see her. The two of you have known each other longer than I have been alive."

You were happy for Veronica. She married the Gondorian soldier who stole her heart and he loved her as much. She was happily married to him and their child was due any day. You knew that undoubtedly, they would have many long and joyous years together. Their marriage was a jolly and bright occasion and you were delighted to be her maid of honor.

But you still had yet to tell her of your circumstances. Veronica remained in the dark. She had absolutely no idea that you were once wedded and queen of a dreaded citadel in the East. A part of you yearned to tell her of your time in Minas Morgul but you decided against it. Perhaps it was something that was never meant to be divulged. You didn't have the heart to regale it all to her.

With the way you were putting it off, you were certain you'd only tell her about this was if you were on your death bed. You didn't have the fortitude to tell her you were a Nazgul's widow.

"I've also come to bring this," Angwen picked up.

"Seconds, I hope," you mumbled as you were finishing up the piece of the pie.

"You have a letter."

"From Amrod, the keeper of the archive?"

"I know not. I respected your privacy and didn't open it."

You wiped your mouth of any lingering stickiness or stray crumbs. You set the fork down on the plate, the utensil clanging softly against it as you did so.

Angwen dug into the pocket of her woolen coat and retrieved the letter. She handed it to you and you received it.

Without really thinking, you delicately opened up the object, not wanting to end up maiming it. You could see her come closer out of the corner of your eye but you made no effort to push her away. You didn't care if she read the contents with you.

" _There are many things I wish to say but I know to do so is foolish drivel_ ," you read out loud. " _I only pray I will have clearer and more organized thoughts in the future. But I know I will say these things to you, my dear. First, I miss you sorely. Second, I hope you are well. Third, I love you._ "

You wrinkled your nose at what you had read thus far. It was confusing and quite awkward. You were almost half tempted to crumple it up and toss it into the fireplace. Perhaps you received someone else's mail. It was of your belief that this was not meant for your eyes.

 _"I pray you to have patience_ ," Angwen picked up, continuing where you left off. " _All will be explained fully in due time. At the moment, I am indisposed and I have business I must attend to. But as soon as these matters are completed, I will depart and I will inform you of it. I hope to see you soon. My thoughts are ever on you and I beg you to wait for me. I hope to see you before winter arrives. I know all too well that the winters in the West can be cruel and unforgiving. Yours truly and adoringly, Anardil._ "

Both of you were silent after you read the brief but vexing letter. All that could be heard was the soft crackling of the wood in the fireplace. You sat and she stood, unable to make sense of the contents. A chill ran down your spine despite the fact it was summer.

You looked over the body of the message. The handwriting wasn't sloppy and it was clearly legible. It was also neat and it seemed like it was somehow written with great care.

"I believe you have a secret admirer!" Angwen gushed brightly. "Thank the Valar!"

"Oh, I hope not," you said, your eyes widening at the thought. "I am not ready for something of that nature." You scoffed and shook your head. "In what manner was this letter delivered to our home?"

"The postman from Bree delivered it. He said a messenger hawk from Minas Tirith came in and it bore this letter. It was specifically addressed to you according to the receipt."

"But who is Anardil? I've never met a man by that name. Does the name sound familiar to you, Sister?"

"No. But I have an idea regarding this mystery."

"Which is?"

"You know that a company of Gondorian soldiers left Bree back in March. They were members of Veronica's husband's company. Perhaps one of those men was enamored with you and he came to terms with his feelings while he was back home at Minas Tirith. He penned this letter for you and had it delivered. Maybe he knows he is ready to be deployed back to Bree again and has implored you to wait for him!" She chuckled. "Perhaps he intends to reveal himself to you with his return! Maybe he desires to marry you!"

You laughed uneasily and rested a hand against your forehead. You released your grasp on the letter, letting it fall onto the desktop. This was most unnecessary and you didn't need something like this filling your mind.

"The thought makes me ill," you retorted. "Angwen, I am a widow, do you understand that? I think you have forgotten."

"Sister, how could I ever forget?" She grasped one of your hands and held it in hers firmly. "I know how much you loved him and I know he treasured you in turn. But you must move on. Three years has passed since he died. He would not want you to linger in grief and misery. He bade you to live on without him."

"If you were in my flesh and if you saw the things I saw, heard the things I heard and felt the things I felt, then you would not be saying these words to me. And apparently, I handle grief in a way contrary to you."

"You obsess over his absence and who he was! Isilmë, only the Valar themselves know who he really was before he became a servant of evil!"

You removed your hand from your face and you frowned at Angwen. You shot her a dour look and shook your head, becoming increasingly displeased and frustrated. In your mind, she had no reason or right to be saying these things. She was easily a decade younger than you and she had no place nor the experience to spout those words.

"Get married, Angwen," you said. "Marry a man, love him and bond with him. Then have him die. Then you may come back to me and speak to me on the matter."

"That is enough, Sister!" Angwen snapped, pulling her hand away from yours. "You must cease your pointless search and move on! You shouldn't even go to Minas Tirith and bother searching the archives. You won't find the Witch-king's true identity. You won't uncover his name. Accept that he is gone and cease this torment you insist on subjecting yourself to. You are still young and any decent, eligible bachelors in Bree would marry you!"

You rose up out of your seat, glowering at your sister and standing up to your full height. You stood taller than her and you gave her a wrathful glare.

"Do not dictate how I deal with my grief and how I choose to honor my husband!" you seethed. "I will deal with my grief on my own and you may go about your business, Sister!"

"You cannot let this continue forever!" she fired back. "I certainly hope this Anardil fellow comes in, whisks you away and makes you fall for him! He is the answer to your plights!"

"This!" You roughly grabbed the note and clenched your hand, crumbling it. "This was a mistake! There was a mix-up of some sort and this was not meant for me! See?!" You tossed it at her. "My name is not mentioned in this note!"

"It was on the receipt, you dense woman!"

"Get out of my library! Go home!"

"Gladly! Come home once you're done being miserable and unapproachable!"

"Get out and stay out! Arrogant brat!"

Angwen muttered foul and uncouth words under her breath and stormed out of the room. You swore you could feel the pounding of her feet on the wooden floor as she made her way to the exit. A few seconds later, you heard her open it and then slammed the door forcefully.

You exhaled heavily and ran your hands through your hair, trying to calm yourself down. Slowly, you paced before the fireplace, attempting to douse your rage. As much as you wanted to scream and flip your desk over, you had to control yourself. There was no room for childish outbursts.

You couldn't deny you had become irritable and devoted to silence and isolation. More and more, it felt like you were becoming distant to your kin and friends. But you were driven to discover him and honor him. You had to reveal who he was. You had to call him by his true name. You wanted to tell those in Minas Tirith of his long buried identity so he could be given true and proper respect and recognition. You wanted him to be remembered for the good he had done and not by the terror he had inspired for thousands of years.

You were relentless in fulfilling your quest. But it also made you wonder. Perhaps you were turning blind. Perhaps you were becoming too one tracked in your agenda. Maybe you were obsessed.

There was more to life than lengthy, candle-lit nights in your library. You had other things to take care of. You could not afford to become reclusive and ornery.

It hurt. And you knew it hurt so much because it was true. She was right.

You eyed the rumpled letter on the floor. You walked over and picked it up. Carefully, you unfolded and flattened it out the best you could. Your eyes flitted over the words again.

You were unsure what to think. You were still convinced there was some mistake somewhere. It was a strange thing but it would more than likely amount to nothing. You would keep this letter but would not dwell on it.

Cautiously, you stowed away the piece of paper into one of your leather binders. It didn't help to hold onto it in case if someone came by asking for this letter. Perhaps you could help Anardil send it to the one he truly wanted to give it to. It was the least you could do.

There was no energy or drive for research tonight. The spat with your sibling had sapped the motivation out of you. You would have a few glasses of wine and fall asleep by the fireplace. It sounded perfect...


	2. The Flower of the Ages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery only deepens when you receive another letter from Anardil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and bookmark! I know this pairing is so niche but I’m happy to see you guys like it enough LOL. And unfortunately Witch-king’s not gonna show up in this chapter or the next but I promise he will show up SOON. This story isn’t clickbait I promise, it’s part of the plot. 
> 
> Enjoy the update!

Chapter 2 The Flower of the Ages

(two months later – August. Bree.)

It had been some time since you last did this but you had enough experience to recall it all. You weren't completely foreign to this type of activity. Years ago, you helped your parents with your four younger siblings when they were once so young and helpless. Carefully, you cradled the swaddled bundle in your arms, rocking the contents gently. You rhythmically patted the infant's backside, wanting to soothe him and keep him sleeping. The child remained lost in slumber, his tiny hands curled up into fists and little bubbles of saliva pooled around his lips.

"Good boy, Artamir," you praised quietly. "Keep sleeping. Your mother needs a break."

You smiled as you observed him, feeling content and at peace. He continued napping and you hoped he'd remain so for as long as possible. Undoubtedly, he'd want to feed as soon as he'd wake up and as far as you knew, you were as dry as a rocky desert in Rhûn.

He was born almost two months ago and Artamir most certainly was the pride of joy of his parents. They doted on him lovingly and you had never seen a more dutiful and gleeful pair of parents in your life. Your heart was happy to see that his future was meant to be filled with warmth and love. Artamir was going to be well cared for and you believed he couldn't have been given to a more perfect mother and father. Genuinely, you were happy for the little boy.

From the beginning, Veronica insisted that you call him your nephew and you were all too willing to oblige. Though you and your dear friend had no blood relations, you didn't mind it at all. You would gladly serve as an auntly figure to him.

Already, he looked like a perfect combination of his parents. He had his mother's blue eyes and his father's light brown hair. And so far, he gave them no especially pressing issues and only a slight case of colic. But so far, all was well. You only hoped he'd continue to remain strong and healthy. Children were so vulnerable at this particular stage of life and it broke your heart to think something would befall the little lad.

You lifted your head up upon hearing the clatter of dishware in the kitchen. Internally, you cringed at the noise, hoping it hadn't stirred the baby. With great reluctance, you looked down to see if he was still asleep. Luckily, he was and it appeared as if he hadn't stirred at all. His tiny hands remained balled up and he gurgled quietly in his sleep.

"Oh, thank you," you sighed in relief.

Yes, you were happy and proud for Veronica and Brandir. But you couldn't help but feel a bit envious of their happy life. You tried to ignore these lingering sensations of jealousy and put away these feelings. You felt robbed. But you tried to comfort yourself, telling yourself it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.

Or so it seemed.

"Things are alright?"

You turned your head to the direction of the kitchen, seeing Veronica standing in the doorway. She smiled at you and walked over.

"Yes," you whispered back, "the little prince is sleeping away."

Yet when you turned your attention back to Artamir, his blue eyes were wide open. You stared back at him, not expecting him to awaken so suddenly and so quietly.

"Well…" you cleared your throat. "Not anymore."

"Here, I'll take him off your hands, my dear," she smiled.

Artamir yawned, displaying his toothless gums. He grunted softly and you gingerly held him out to his mother as she walked over.

"I promise, he was fine until we spoke," you said.

"He has a talent for waking up during moments when I have peace," she joked. "My precious Artamir…"

She accepted her son and brought him up to her face, kissing his forehead. Once she had him in her arms, Veronica sat beside you. She gave you a smile.

"Thank you for holding him while I got some chores completed," she said.

"Anytime," you remarked. "I'm glad I can help."

"Brandir still works as a guardsman here and as much as I want to ask him to help, it is difficult. His shifts are long and I dislike having to make him do more work when he comes home."

"I can understand that. But I'm sure he doesn't mind Veronica. Brandir has a gentle heart and I know he loves you and Artamir dearly. Even something like asking him to hold your son should help you."

"I know." She kissed her infant's forehead and hummed softly. "He has been a very good father to our son. I couldn't have been married to a better man."

"I wholeheartedly agree. My heart is glad for the both of you."

"I'm glad you decided to come and visit, I'm always very happy and grateful to receive your company, Isilmë."

"You know I must check up on you. I would be a neglectful friend if I did not. Besides, I must visit my nephew every so often and see how he is thriving."

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Your sister brought something to my attention."

A cold wave of dread washed over you. Instantly, you suspected what it was about. You tried your best to keep as calm and as neutral as possible but you couldn't curb your tensing posture. Already, you could feel yourself becoming anxious and defensive. You weren't going to like this in the slightest bit. Angwen had no right to speak about the issue that was always on your mind. Veronica didn't need to be concerned with this.

"Which is…?" you asked, hating where this was going.

"She is concerned about you," Veronica stressed. "You know of what I speak of. You've been spending much time at the library. She told me you two fought some time ago."

"And we made amends a day after that. I know I was the one at fault. What is she telling you? Veronica, you shouldn't pay mind to her. You've got to focus on your son."

"I may have other concerns than that of my son and husband. My dear, I am concerned about you as well. Your dedication is admirable to your library but I know you sleep there many nights."

"I've cut back on such a thing. I've been coming home far more often."

"As you should, my dear. You have to treasure and hold fast to what you have. You are lucky to have some of your family survive."

Veronica was correct. You were very lucky to have Angwen and Venarion survive. Two of your siblings, both of your parents and your grandfather weren't as lucky and now you had to live without them. Home wasn't the same without them and you had to make do with what you had. Honestly, it was another reason why you were reluctant to return at times. They happy memories were beginning to turn sour.

"I know," you replied morosely. "I am sorry but I know I am not the same girl you grew up with years ago. A lot has happened and I cannot help what has transpired."

You shook your head and released a wavering sigh. A few stray tears were on the cusps of your eyelids and it was becoming increasingly difficult to disguise such things. You were disgusted by this weakness. But it was becoming more of a challenge to not talk about it. Your soul screamed at you to speak to her about it. You couldn't bear keeping her in the dark about it any longer.

But at the same time, you knew you had to. Your brother and sister knew as did the Fellowship. And yet you couldn't tell your longtime friend about it. Perhaps it was some twisted, flawed logic.

"Isilmë," she said entreatingly, "I know there is more. I can feel it. Please, be honest and open with me. I would tell you anything. Why don't you do the same? You know I love you and will never forsake you. How could I?"

"Veronica," you exhaled, "it is a matter very private and dear to me."

"But you can trust me. Dear, it's me. I still want us to be close and disclose secrets to each other like we used to when we were children. I miss that."

"I miss those times too. Those were simple and untroubled times. We were silly little girls and the matters of adults was the least of our concerns. Sometimes I wish I was a child once more so I could be rid of all of this strife, grief and hardship. Back in those days, I thought nothing of marriage as well…"

Veronica looked back at you questioningly. You averted your gaze from hers and hung your head. At this point, you cared not if she found out.

"Isilmë, what exactly happened out in the East?" she said evenly. "There is a much larger story that unfolded when you got kidnapped, wasn't there?"

"I was married for a little over a year while I was there," you confessed.

You were sure Veronica was about to drop Artamir when you told her that. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth hung agape. Whereas she was visibly shocked, you appeared drained and numb.

"Y-you were married?" she reiterated.

"Yes," you nodded. "In the beginning I did not love him. I feared and hated him. But as time passed, I understood him. I grew to pity him. Pity turned into love. And when it came time to leave, I was reluctant and heartbroken. Then he died."

"But what was he like? Did he treat you well? Certainly he must have if you feel for him!"

"He treated me so very well. He reminded me of his first wife so much so that was what drew him to me in the first place. He made sure I had plenty of food and water. He was never rough or forceful with me. He treated me as if I was royalty."

"And surely you consummated your marriage with him?"

"No. I never did."

She looked most confused at that. If the subject wasn't so sensitive, you would've laughed at her expression.

"You've never lain with your husband?" she asked.

"When I married him, I was not happy with my choice," you explained. "It was out of necessity. But he knew that was the case. He opted to wait until I had warmed up to him considerably. Unfortunately, I never realized how much I did love him until I departed. If I had stayed, I am sure we would have consummated our marriage then."

"Why did you leave him?"

"Where I was, things were far too precarious. One of his servants attacked me and she was quite close to killing me. He bade me to leave for my own safety. Angwen and Venarion were with me for sometime as well while I was so far away. They know about it all as well but I pleaded with them to keep it in the dark."

"That gray stripe in your hair..? You received that when you were gone."

"The servant was a witch."

"I thought they all died out when the old witch-realm was destroyed. That was so long ago, Isilmë."

"Many of them lived and they fled to other nations for sanctuary. But they indeed survived. The one that nearly ended me was descended from the witches of Angmar. She was an old, vicious crone and she sought to steal my life and youth to replenish her lost glory. She came close to victory but she was stopped in the end. But I did not emerge unscathed from that incident. This gray strand will remain with me until I pass."

Veronica was astonished. She could hardly believe the words that were coming out of your month. They were terrible, strange things. But she could already understand why you chose to hide these things. The horrors of the East were no laughing matter.

"Isilmë," she said, her voice soft and almost too quiet. "Please, will you tell me everything? You have gone this far, there is no need for you to hide such things anymore. Tell me it all. I will only listen."

There was no use to hide it anymore. As far as you were concerned, Veronica deserved to know the truth. No longer would you keep it all in. Someone else would now know of the fell and lovely things that happened during your tenure. No longer could you live a lie and pretend that none of it occurred.

And so, you told her.

(…)

The feeling was somewhat indescribable. In the aftermath of it, you felt naked and laid bare. But you also felt relieved and liberated. You had indeed told your dear friend of the things you saw, heard and felt. Your account was intimate and unfiltered. It felt as if a ponderous, stone block was unshackled from your ankle and you could move about freely once more. It felt good to confide her in this very near affair to your heart.

Veronica was largely silent while you told her about your time with the Witch-king. Aside from the random question or remark about whatever part you were regaling, she was quiet. It somewhat surprised you to see her so attentive and silent while you explained everything but you wouldn't complain too much about that. You were quite content to relate this tale to her with as little interruptions as possible.

But when you finally concluded everything, she was unable to speak. In her eyes, you could see she was flabbergasted and at a loss as to what to think. You'd even assume that maybe she wouldn't be able to believe it all. It was perhaps more unbelievable than any legend or story she heard when she was a child.

"There are some things that suddenly make so much sense," she said at last. Her voice was mousy.

You only nodded your head. You felt somewhat vulnerable with disclosing these things to her but largely, relief prevailed. It was finally done.

“My Isilmë,” she said, “my dear companion who I have known for almost my whole life married the Witch-king?” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself with this information. “The same one whom my grandmother told me stories about when I was a child to scare me into behaving, married my best friend...”

”Now you know some of the reason why I hesitated to tell you this,” you retorted. “You think I’m insane or lying.”

”No!” She shook her head. “No, I know you wouldn’t lie about something like that. It’s just...” The woman sputtered. “Never could I have even dreamed of it! And he treated you so well and loved you.”

”Yes... He...” You shrugged. “He did terrible things over the ages but it was all because he fell under the influence and thralldom of the Dark Lord. If he hadn’t met him, things would’ve been far different.”

"And it makes sense how your husband was able to do what was done. No longer could he take it." She scoffed and shook her head. "My dear, thank you. Thank you for being honest with me and telling me these things."

"I feel as if I'm reborn by doing this.”

"Surely you must be!" She paused for a moment. "And it makes sense why you are so reluctant to find a man and are so bound to your books."

"But I have realized some things, Veronica. I know I cannot become a stranger to my family and to you. I feel like I will be able to let go of my past if I find out who he was. Can you imagine being married to Brandir and not know what his name was or what he even looked like? Or what if he was as witless about his origins as you were?" You sighed. "That is why I must go to Minas Tirith. I must try to find out about his true identity so that I may honor him. If there is any place that may have the clue to this mystery, then it is those archives."

"What will you do if you find nothing?"

It was an ugly possibility and you tried not to entertain it. But you were forced to accept that it could very well become a reality. There was a chance you might not gain as much satisfaction and closure that you assumed you'd get.

"Then it will be clear to me that I am not meant to learn it," you said. "If I do not find any sign of it there, then I must accept reality. If Gondor won't have the answer, no one will."

"And what will you do then?"

"Move on the best I can. I will love and honor him in my heart but that will be all."

"I do hope you find your answer, Isilmë. You must find peace and move on. I know this is very difficult for you. I cannot even bear to imagine life without my husband."

She leaned in and kissed your cheek, wanting to comfort you. Artamir was still in her arms and though he was awake, he was simply content to be held by his mother and remain close to her. Luckily, he remained quiet during the whole exchange.

"I will silence myself when it comes down to insisting on you finding a husband," she said. "You must forgive me, if I had known earlier, I would've never…"

"The fault is my own, not yours," you said. "I was stubborn and would not open my heart and my mind to you. But perhaps I will find someone else one day." A ghost of a smile formed on your face. "I know you have said the carpenter, Tristan, is supposedly interested in me. You brought it up a few times before."

"No, you must confront him after you have done your business! I have heard rumors of it but do what you must. Heal your heart first, Isilmë."

"I know and I will do so. I will not rush into the arena of love so carelessly. I am reluctant to do it to begin with." You stood up. "I suppose I must be on my way, my dear friend. The library is closed today but I promised I would help my brother and sister with household chores. I dare not delay them."

"Of course, I won't hold you back much longer." She stood up as well. "Please know that you are welcome to visit us at any time. Our home is yours if the need ever becomes great enough. Don't forget it."

"I will not."

You outstretched your arms and embraced her softly. Your grasp on her was loose, not wanting to place too much pressure on her son as she still held him to her chest.

"Thank you for listening," you said. "And please, don't tell anyone about this. I ask you to not even tell Brandir about this for now."

"If that is your wish, I will honor it," she agreed. She nodded her head, her blonde locks shifting as she did so. "I may stop and visit your library sometime next week. I need my exercise and I would like Artamir to enjoy the clean, crisp air before winter comes."

"It is closed on Mondays so do not make a vain trip to there on that day." You chuckled.

"I need the exercise regardless." She smirked. "I still feel as if I'm nine months expecting, I could afford to get out more often. Now go, I know you have your obligations. It was wonderful to see you."

"It was nice to see you too, Veronica. And thank you again."

You waved to her and walked to the front door. You opened it and made your way out, exiting her house and walking into the small, fenced in yard she had. There was a rose bush and a small, raised bed of vegetables she was growing. Veronica lingered in the doorway, seeing you out and making sure you were on your way safely. Daylight was still reigning supreme but there were still suspicious characters that stalked about Bree from time to time.

As you exited her property and walked down the dirt road that ran through the town, you turned and waved back to her. Veronica did the same and then retreated back into her home.

You refocused on the road ahead and let out a sigh of relief. It went along well enough. Veronica didn't react outrageously to your narrative. Undeniably, she was shocked by what you had to say but she didn't judge or reprimand you. She was open and warm.

Honestly, you felt lucky to have her in your life. She was no blood relative of yours but you saw her as family. You would be sure to keep her and treat her kindly for as long as you lived.

"Miss Isilmë!"

You looked to your right, seeing a thin, tall, young Man hailing you. He made his way over to you when you spotted him and he kept a hand on the satchel he had across his shoulder. You halted and waved back at him, acknowledging him. Then you began to approach him, intending to meet him half way.

"Hello, James," you smiled politely.

The ruddy looking fellow nodded at you. His dark brown hair was a mess but his hazel eyes regarded you kindly. His spotty, incomplete beard looked almost mismatched and he was often bullied by the other Bree-Men because of it. He was seventeen but he was quieter and one of the better behaved youths of the town. James kept his head down and fulfilled his duty as Bree's mail carrier.

"Nice to see you here, Miss," he said. "I can give you your mail right now! We got another message from Minas Tirith for you."

Your stomach lurched nervously in your abdomen. Your smile started to fade and some apprehension began to form in you. Was this mistake about to be made a second time? What was the cause of this? Specifically, what exactly was this madness?

"James, tell me something," you said, your smile fully dissolving away. "Is there a return address of some sort?"

"The same messenger hawk flew in from Gondor," he said. "The receipt bears your name and address. Here, Miss." He dug through his satchel, seeking your letter. "The postmaster is a bit curious himself with the whole ordeal. The messenger hawk bears the emblem of the White Tower. The letter comes from someone within the King of Gondor's court…"

You were even more perplexed. Your nose wrinkled and your brows furrowed. None of this made sense. What member of King Aragorn's court was sending these letters to you? And why for that matter?

James managed to fish out the letter from the carrying bag. He held out the rolled up parchment to you, offering it. The small, wax tag hung on the side of the letter, bearing your name and address on it.

"Is the hawk still at the post office?" you asked.

"No, ma'am," James replied. "The postmaster took the note from the beast and it flew off as soon as it was freed from it."

You hummed in acceptance and received the letter. You weren't going to open it in front of him but you would certainly look at it as soon as possible.

"If this hawk comes a third time, please try to catch it if possible," you encouraged. "I want to compose a letter of my own and figure out who is sending me these things." You looked at the receipt, your eyes narrowing as you read it. "I have no idea who this Anardil individual is. Anardil son of…Minastir?"

You blinked in confusion. This was too odd.

James gave you an apologetic shrug.

"I'm sorry I'm not much help, ma'am," he said.

"It's no fault of yours," you replied. "You're only the messenger."

"I'll let the postmaster know what you want to do. I hate to run off but I have other mail to deliver."

"Of course, I'm sorry. Have a good day, James."

"Likewise, Miss Isilmë."

The scruffy lad walked off to resume his route. You eyed the receipt, rattling your brain, trying to figure out who exactly this soul was. The fact that this came from Aragorn's court was unexpected. Angwen failed to mention that when she received the first letter and that annoyed you greatly.

You picked up your pace and hurried through the streets of Bree, eager to leave the town and make your way home. You'd open it whenever you'd leave the settlement and away from any prying, nosy eyes.

(…)

Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. Nervously, you fumbled with the letter while you walked. You were already two miles away from Bree and you were anxious to open it. No longer were you so paranoid about eavesdroppers but now you were concerned about misplaced attentions.

Suspiciously you looked around the country road, seeing no people. You could hear the sound of sheep in a nearby pasture as they called to one another and grazed. A stray blue jay cried out shrilly overhead as it was chased off by a territorial family of sparrows. Clearly, the animals had no intention to bother or interrupt you. They had no concept of the matters on your mind.

"You've faced matters far more frightening than this," you huffed to yourself. "Stop it, coward."

You took a deep breath and unraveled the letter. You removed the receipt and placed it into your pocket, fully intending to remember it for future reference later.

But as soon as you began to open the note up, your nose was hit with quite the aromatic and pure smell. At first, it smelled like a mixture of a few different flowers but it was unlike anything you ever smelled before. However, it was far from unpleasant, actually, it was quite contrary. It was one of the most wonderful and soothing scents you were ever graced with.

Then you discovered the source of it.

In the middle of the note, lying atop the black ink that you had yet to read, there lain a small, pure white flower. It looked as fresh as virgin snow. Attached to the base of the flower were a few, silvery leaves. The flower smelled as if it had been freshly plucked from whatever plant it came from. It still was soft and wasn't fully dried out which was something you weren't expecting.

As if you were handling a piece of priceless, brittle glass, you held the flower in one hand, cradling it in your palm. Then you turned your attention to the letter itself.

" _The King has assured me that this is the fastest hawk he has. He has said it should take no more than a week for this beautiful, swift creature to arrive at your realm. I trust him fully and I assume you have received my previous letter. Things have gone smoothly enough and I am much relieved for it. I still aim to arrive before the winter solstice and I believe I should have enough time. The King promised me that the way will be as unobstructed as possible so that I may reunite with you promptly. A few more preparations need to be completed and I hope to leave by September. That is what I plan and desire luckily he has been very generous to me during my stay here. I intend to repay him somehow, someway._

_But my thoughts turn to you, my dear… I trust you are well? I hope your brother and sister are in good spirits and you are all healthy. Please, send them my warm regards and well wishes. I still find myself unable to compile my thoughts and properly transfer them onto this piece of parchment. It is far harder to do than I've ever imagined. I still yearn to tell you many things but I feel that will have to wait until our reunion. I look forward to the future with great relish and high hopes, Isilmë. I cannot contain my joy, perhaps that is why I cannot write these letters properly._

_Again, I ask for you to wait for me. Please, do not become impatient. Do not forsake me for I am coming. Wait for me and you will never have to do such a thing again. How I yearn for you to be in my arms and in my midst. How I desire to kiss those lovely lips and see your golden smile. And I heartily look forward to hearing your laughter once more. I love you more than I thought was possible. My only wish is to be with you until death sunders us which I pray will not be for many, many years._

_Do you see that flower? The King has granted me permission to give it and these small leaves to you. They are from the White Tree, my dear, and I trust you know of its ancient and hallowed origins. It is descended from the days of Númenor and before Númenor, Valinor itself. It is dear to our people. Let it be a token of my loyalty and love. Cherish it as I cherish you._

_Expect a letter from me within a month or so. Yours forever, Anardil_."

You couldn't react. You simply didn't know how to. All that you knew was that you were stunned into disbelief. There was no mistake. This letter was without a doubt crafted specifically for you. That was a truth you couldn't run away from. It was also obvious to you that whoever this man was, he was utterly smitten with you.

You looked at your one hand that held the flower of the Tree. Your heart lurched in your chest, disbelieving that such a dear and pure piece of this relic of Númenor was bequeathed to you. More than anything else, you felt unworthy and thought it ought to be given to a queen if anyone and not to the likes of you. But you were beyond flattered and humbled. This was something truly valuable, perhaps even something more valuable than mithril in your eyes. It was more than obvious that this was a true token of courtship and devotion. Words were merely words but a flower and the leaves of the White Tree proved everything.

You had to find out who this soul was. It was so odd that he seemed to know of you, Angwen and Venarion but you knew virtually nothing about him. This was a mystery you couldn't allow to persist.

Although he was gone and finally at peace, you felt as if you'd be betraying your husband if you accepted this man's affections. That was something you couldn't do. Your heart was still healing and belonged to him. It wasn't time to move on and find another. You refused to be faithless and disloyal to his memory.

" _Anardil, son of Minastir_ ," you thought. Slowly, you resumed your walk back to your home. " _Who are you? I hope to find this out before your alleged arrival. No, I will find this out. You will answer to me_."


	3. Sûlkir's Errand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She arrived on behalf of her master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys again! Interesting things are in sight so hang on. Read on and enjoy!

Chapter 3 Sûlkir's Errand

(one month later – September)

" _When I received your first letter, I assumed it was a mistake of some sort. I believed there was some sort of confusion or error and admittedly, I disregarded it. I thought it was most curious but I deemed it was not actually meant for me. But when I received your second letter, I realized this was indeed intentional and this was not the same mistake being repeated. You have indeed mentioned my name and you are familiar with my brother and sister. Sir, you have me intrigued and vexed._

_You present yourself as Anardil, son of Minastir. I do not know any men by either name. So, I implore you to enlighten me. I would very much like to know who is sending me these letters. They are quite flattering and charming but I am very much confused and unsure of how to tread. Forgive me, but I feel intimidated and even frightened that you know of me but I know nothing of you in return._

_I must also state that while I am very flattered by your gift, I must return it. I am shocked that the King even granted you the liberty to do this but you must be within his good graces. This is too regal of a gift for me to accept. I especially cannot accept it if I do not know who you are. It would be very awkward and misleading._

_I have also lost a man very near and dear to me three years ago and I still mourn over his absence. I ask you to respectfully understand my plight and not pursue me romantically. Your affections are misplaced and there are many other women who would undoubtedly be swooned by your charms and glorious gifts. I beg you to turn your eye elsewhere._

_Until you elaborate how you know me, I ask you to cease these letters as I feel they are on the fine cusp of inappropriateness. Forgive me for my bluntness but I must know this. Please enlighten me. If we cannot be lovers, perhaps we can be friends, sir. I do not wish to sow hostility, I only desire understanding._

_Sincerely, Isilmë."_

"Read this, Sister," you said as you placed your quill down.

Obligingly, Angwen did as you requested. She picked up the letter from the surface of the desk and held it in her hands. Her gaze hardened as she read the letter you composed. She was quiet and it was interesting to see her intently studying what you came up with.

You were certain she'd disapprove of it or tell you to accept the man's affection and declarations of love. If she was going to say something along those lines, you were absolutely going to fight her on that stance. As far as you were concerned, you weren't going to budge until this gentleman of King Aragorn's court explained himself.

It was a bit of a challenge to write this letter. You wanted to be firm but cordial. You illustrated your boundaries and wanted them acknowledged and accepted but you didn't want to be vicious in the slightest bit. You only hoped that Anardil would be understanding of your concerns and perhaps maybe apologize for these letters. You just didn't want there to be any hard feelings nor did you have any desire to make a potential enemy out of this fellow, whoever he was.

A thought occurred to you at that very moment that never graced you before. Did King Aragorn know exactly what Anardil was up to? Did he really give permission to pluck a flower from the White Tree? Was Anardil being truthful to his king about this whole affair?

"This is good," she said suddenly.

"You're sure?" you replied.

"Yes. Isilmë, I think we can both agree that we need to discover this man's identity. I don't have the slightest idea whom he is either. All we know is that he's likely some Man of Gondor and is part of the King's court. That's all the information we have."

"Then will you walk with me to Bree to deliver this to the postman? I want him to fasten this to the hawk when it arrives. I want my answers."

"Of course I will."

"Anardil said it roughly takes about a week for the hawk to fly from Minas Tirith from Bree. So I should expect a reply in about two weeks, in theory… Granted that everything goes according to plan."

"If he is as interested in you as he claims he is, then he will quickly respond to you, Sister." She smiled impishly. "His gesture towards you has swooned even me! Now if a man attempts to woo me, I will bid him to go to Gondor and fetch a flower from the Tree for me if his love is indeed true!"

"You ought to do no such thing!" You chided her and scoffed in disgust. "A little humility is never a bad trait for anyone to possess!"

"I have none, Sister." Angwen laughed haughtily. She handed your work over to you. "But that is why you love me."

"I love you because you are my sister and I have to love what I have been given."

You gave her a playful smile and ruffled her hair. Angwen smirked at your words and stood aside, allowing you to get up from your desk.

"If you plan on going into town, I want to go as well," Venarion toned in.

"You're more than welcome to tag along, Brother," you answered.

You smiled as your youngest sibling entered the room. Pride filled your eyes as you looked upon him. He was growing taller and stronger each and every day. In your eyes, because he was flourishing, it was a sign that you had not failed your parents. You must have been doing something correctly if Venarion was growing up. Perhaps you weren't as ill equipped as you thought you were in the beginning.

"I would like to see this hawk for myself," the youth said. "I always thought falconry was a very interesting and thrilling activity!"

"Be careful, little brother," Angwen chuckled. "It is supposed to be the King's fastest hawk! And you may change your mind if the beast tries to pluck your eyes out of your head!"

Venarion only rolled his eyes at his sister's teasing. He shrugged it off and turned his attention directly to you.

"Isilmë, I must point something out," he said.

"Of course," you answered, "what is it?"

"This man is called Anardil and he says he is the son of Minastir. Wasn't Minastir a king of Númenor a long time ago?"

"And how do you know about that?" Angwen interrupted, raising a brow.

"I'm interested in our sister's project." He looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his head. His face betrayed guilt. "I looked through Isilmë's notes a few times and I remember seeing that name written down."

"What's the point, Brother?"

"Nothing, I just think it's interesting."

"It's not uncommon for Men of Gondor and Arnor to name their children after notable figures of the past," you said. "Anardil was also the name of a few different members of the royal family. Maybe Minastir's parents wanted to honor their son after the twelfth ruling king of Númenor."

"Sister, do you think you have an idea who your husband really is?"

You blinked, not expecting that question. Honestly, you were happy to be asked that. It was nice that your brother expressed interest in your research. Maybe he didn't think you were as mad and depressed as Angwen might've thought you were.

You had some suspicions but no solid candidates. But what you were certain of was that during Tar-Ciryatan's reign, a shadow fell upon Númenor and the kings and people became increasingly hostile towards the Valar since then. It was a window of time you looked into but you were at a loss.

"Minastir was replaced by his son, Ciryatan," you said. "It was rumored Ciryatan took his throne forcefully. A shadow of discord grew during his reign and he began to suppress the lesser Men of Middle Earth. That is a hint, Venarion. When that darkness began to fester, it allowed Sauron to gain a foothold that would ultimately end up destroying our ancestral home. He was power hungry and sought wealth and glory. But I don't believe Ciryatan and the Witch-king were the same being. And not only that, Ciryatan was his father's only child. Ciryatan died and I am sure Sauron wouldn't have been able to gift him a ring. Remember, Brother, the Nazgûl never died, only transformed. I'm sure there would've been a record of that happening to a king… I believe perhaps my husband was a member of the royal family but wasn't in line for the throne. Maybe he was a second cousin or something along those lines. That is why I want to go to Gondor after all. The sources I have are incomplete and I've exhausted them fully."

"Perhaps you can tackle two mysteries at once!" the boy suggested. "You can go to Minas Tirith to do your research and find out who Anardil is at the same time."

That…was not a bad idea. Despite his youth, Venarion was surprisingly insightful and perceptive. In fact, there were times you caught yourself musing that he was wiser than Angwen. No, you were fairly confident of that at this point. He was a sharp lad and you were proud of him for that.

"It is something to consider," you admitted outright. "But allow me to send this letter and we will see where it goes from here. I expect to have more answers and less questions when this errand is completed."

"I agree!" Angwen announced. With one hand she grasped you and with the other, her brother. "Come, let's be on our merry way! We have a dilemma to solve and I am all too eager to assist in this one!”

(Bree)

The first thing that caught your attention was the shrill scream of an animal. You froze for a second, shaken by the high-pitched cry. As soon as you entered the post office, that was the first thing you heard. You could also hear some sort of rustling or commotion and two, raised masculine voices.

You paused and listened, just wondering what was going on. But then the realization hit you and you understood what was happening.

Reacting more on instinct and not really thinking, you left the front lobby and pushed past the door where only the staff was permitted. Perhaps, in this situation, they would be lenient towards your intrusion. You had a hunch with what was happening and they were doing this at your request anyway.

"Hold fast to her, James!" the old postmaster, Ryan, commanded.

"I'm trying!" the younger male retorted. "She's stronger than she looks!"

When you entered the room, you could see the two Bree-Men attempting to restrain the messenger hawk. Both of them had heavy, thick, leather falconry gloves on but they were still struggling with the powerful and willful bird.

Wordlessly, Venarion leapt into the action and pulled a rag out of his pocket. The hawk flailed about, trying to free herself and beating her large, strong wings. The boy firmly but carefully tied the rag around the bird's eyes, in an attempt to calm her down. She struggled and fought but as the cloth temporarily blinded her, her attempts began to gradually decline. Venarion spoke in a low, quiet tone and stroked the hawk on the crown of her head in order to further placate her.

"Where did you learn that?" Angwen demanded, her eyes wide.

"I've had practice with our chickens, Sister," the boy grinned. "If you tie a cloth around their eyes, it helps to calm them down."

"Good lad," Ryan laughed, showing his thanks, "much obliged, young sir!" The graying, grizzled man cringed as the hawk's talons put pressure on his hand even through the gloves. "James, restrain her wings, let's get this done! This is one of the King's hawks and I don't want to handle her too long and too much!"

"If anything befalls this bird, it'll be my fault," you spoke up. "I was the one who asked you to capture her so I could send a letter in return."

"You got your letter, Miss Isilmë? I don't mean to be hasty or rude but please tie it to the blasted beast and let's let her return to her master! I'm waiting for her talons to pierce these gloves and maim my poor fingers!"

You nodded and strode forward, pulling your letter out of your pocket. As you got closer, you finally realized how large this particular bird was. Her talons were like sabers of obsidian and were at least four inches in length. She was colored brown, white and red. She looked well fed and her feathers were smooth and vibrant. She looked proud and you could easily see the power and musculature in her frame but she was still light enough where she could fly effortlessly through the sky and carry out her duties.

"I've got her talons, ma'am," Ryan encouraged. "Don't worry about her turning them on you. Fasten it to the band around her foot and we'll let her be on her way."

You could see the third letter attached to the band. As tempted as you were to take it and see what words were written, you resisted the urge to take it. Anardil said he would be leaving around September and it certainly was that month currently. Perhaps he would be announcing his intent to leave. You hoped your letter would get to him before he'd leave but if he did, you were sure someone at Minas Tirith would find a way to forward his mail to him.

You carefully untied the ribbon so you could bind your letter to it. Your fingers grazed against her scaled foot, noting how warm it was. It felt somewhat exhilarating to be so close to such a magnificent, beautiful, powerful creature. Mind you, she was being pacified by three Men so you could do this task but it was still an experience you wouldn't forget.

As you fastened your letter to her foot, you studied the silver band around her foot. There was an engraving on it and you squinted at it, trying to make out what it said. You smiled when you saw that it bore her name.

"Our lovely messenger is named Sûlkir," you announced.

Sûlkir's head immediately turned to your direction when she heard her name being spoken. The bird may had lost her vision for the moment but her hearing was unaffected. Her mouth was parted and she quietly panted, exposing her tongue as she did it.

"Thank you for your patience, Sûlkir," you said as you finished tying your letter to the band. "I know this is no way to treat such a proud and glorious lady such as yourself." You laughed quietly. "Return this to your master in the East."

"James, young master Venarion," Ryan instructed. "Let's get her to the window and open it so she can be out of here."

Angwen jogged to the other side of the room where the window was. She hastily opened it up and stood aside, not wanting to risk being lacerated by Sûlkir if she decided to lash out.

Venarion looked at the postmaster's desk, seeing a roast chicken that had yet to be touched. Undoubtedly, it was his lunch and it was still warm. Gingerly, he tore off a piece of breast meat and held it in his hand.

"She deserves a treat for her trouble," the boy said.

Ryan looked dismayed that Venarion had done that and you were about to chide your brother for taking that liberty. But the postmaster sighed and nodded his head, agreeing to the action. He only wanted the bird out of his post office and sent back to Gondor.

James and Ryan still restrained the hawk as they walked over to the window. Venarion remained behind the older Men, still bearing the food he fully intended to give to Sûlkir.

"Release her wings, James," his boss instructed.

James did just that and as soon as his hands drew away from her wings, Sûlkir began to flap. The loose papers in the room were tossed about and the hair of her captors sifted and billowed. Her talons tightened on Ryan's hands again and the oldest individual winced as he began to hold her out towards the open window.

"Sûlkir," Venarion said in a low, even voice. He grasped the piece of chicken by the very end and offered it up to the hawk. "Eat this."

The hawk slowed the wing beating. With his other hand, he cautiously removed the blindfold he tied around her head. When that happened, her bright, light brown eyes took in their surroundings once more. Her beak was still parted, panting softly. Her posture was defensive but she steadily calmed when she saw the Men were no longer restraining her.

She eyed the piece of flesh the youngest in the room offered. Her keen, sharp eyes were focused on Venarion, studying him. His remaining arm was at his side and his posture was relaxed. He kept calm and steady before her. He was no threat.

Sûlkir cautiously plucked up the piece of cooked chicken and hastily devoured it. When that was done, she turned her head to the window and began to beat her wings, wanting to be released. Ryan did that and the messenger glided out, disappearing into the sky and returning to the high White Tower that she roosted in.

"You didn't take the letter attached to her?" Ryan asked, confused by your actions.

"No," you said. "I didn't want to read another letter until I sent mine. I'm sorry, sir, but it was necessary."

"Well, so long as you got your letter out and no one got their eyes plucked out." He huffed and threw off the falconry gloves. The older gentleman flexed his fingers, happy that they emerged intact and that the gloves served their purpose well. "Thank you for your help. And thank you to young master Venarion for blindfolding the hawk! That was a most clever move."

"My brother has always been good with animals," you said, a smile glowing on your face. “He has a soft and gentle heart and they trust him due to it. He has said he'd love to study falconry. Perhaps I should have sent him to Minas Tirith with Sûlkir.”

Venarion blushed and bashfully looked away. Angwen snickered at his reaction and she playfully poked him in his side. The boy grumbled in protest and jerked away from her touch.

"According to the letter, that hawk's journey from Minas Tirith to Bree and back takes about a week," you resumed. "So, I pray she'll return in about two weeks time."

"All I know is that if hawks from Gondor keep showing up at my window," Ryan said, "I want your brother in my employ. That is, with your permission, ma'am."

"The offer is tempting. It would be nice for Venarion to have a job like that, I think he'd enjoy it." You faced your brother, smirking as you did so. "Are you in need of a job and some spare change, Brother?"

He only shrugged and kept quiet. His whole face was a red as a sun-ripened tomato, belying his embarrassment. Venarion disliked having attention drawn to him and he only wanted to be left to his own devices. He was shy at times and sometimes you found yourself worrying over him. But he was not mischievous or ill natured at all, placating you. Perhaps, as he became an adult, he would come out of his shell and not be so meek.

"We'll keep the option open," you told Ryan.

"So, if you get a reply from this strange fellow, we'll get it to you, ma'am," the postmaster promised.

"I half hope he ceases sending me these letters. I never asked for them." You shook your head. "Thank you, gentlemen. I feel more relieved now that I have done this."

"The pleasure is ours, ma'am, we're happy to be of service to you. Let James and I know if you need help with anything else."

"Of course. My siblings and I will be on our way, gentlemen. Good day.

"Good day, ma'am."

James wordlessly nodded to you and the two men picked up on their previous task of resuming their lunch break.

You turned and exited the back room, your brother and sister following you. You were silent as you walked out of the post office and they were as solemn and quiet as you were.

A sense of accomplishment boded in your heart but now you knew you had to wait for the reply. Already, you found yourself anticipating it. A million possibilities ran through your head regarding what you'd read in two weeks. Maybe he'd be cordial and understanding or maybe he'd be angry and persistent. It made your stomach twist into various knots but you tried to reassure yourself it was possible nothing would come about. You returned the flower as well, feeling unworthy to even look at the pure, unblemished token.

"Now we wait for Anardil," Angwen stated the obvious.

"This will be the hardest feat yet," you said grimly.

"Don't fret, Isilmë,” Venarion encouraged. "I'm sure you'll get your answer soon enough, Sister. Be patient and don't be afraid."

"I cannot help this." You hung your head. "What if he is dense and unwavering?" You groaned in exhaustion. "I have a feeling he will be hard to deter."

"What makes you say that?" Angwen blinked in confusion. "You…no, we! We don't have the slightest clue who this fellow is. We don't know him and yet he knows us?"

"I don't know but I have this feeling he will be…difficult."

"It is only your nerves, Sister. You are worried about the advances of a man who is smitten with you. I can understand your concern but I do not sense any villainy or foul mischief." A steely glint appeared in her eyes and she rolled her shoulders. "But if he tries something, then he will have me to answer to. He will not lay a hand on my sister."

"Perhaps we should wait and encourage him to visit us," Venarion offered. "He said he intends to visit. Maybe we should let it happen so we can see him for ourselves. Then you can have your words with him, Isilme."

At first, you wanted to object to it but maybe it wasn't such a horrible and ludicrous idea. If your point wasn't going to be relayed effectively through writing, maybe seeing this stranger in person might be something else entirely. Somehow, maybe it would be easier this way. It was uncomfortable to think about letting this individual into your life more than you preferred but it was something you'd have to consider.

"We shall see," you remarked. "We won't know what to say or think or do until I receive my reply. Patience is the only thing we can utilize now."

"This may all amount to nothing," Angwen said. "Perhaps there is another Isilmë he is courting?"

"That is a bit of stretch," Venarion deadpanned. "I think this is clearly meant for our oldest sibling."

You continued walking along, making your way home as you ignored Angwen and Venarion argue amongst each other. You scoffed softly but smiled, not intending to get in between them just yet. You knew that they loved each other too much to have things escalate too vehemently.

(three weeks later – early October)

The sun was bright and the air was cool and crisp. The bright blue sky above was nearly cloudless save for some high-flying, wispy clouds. A slight breeze would stir up every now and then, tossing about the smells of fall.

Your heart was light and carefree. The early autumn day was beautiful and you were happily engaged in your current activity. Your hands were busy in the canopy of an apple tree, harvesting the bounty of its season. It was a generous year for apples and you were eagerly looking forward to a warm glass of cider already. What was even better was that since there was a generous surplus of apples on all the trees in the small orchard, there'd be too much for you and your siblings to manage. Already, you planned on giving a hearty, few dozen to Veronica and selling any leftovers in town.

You plucked the red, delectable apples from their stems and carefully dropped them into the awaiting basket below at the base of the tree. Already, you had two baskets, each of them one foot deep and were filled with the fruit. Now you were nearing completion with this third basket.

Once you finished collecting all the apples within arm's reach, you peered through the leaves. Venarion was busy feeding the chickens cracked corn from his open palms. The six, brown and red colored hens fearlessly ate from his hands, crowding around them and pushing each other out of the way while they fed. The boy smiled as he kept his hands out, amused by their mannerisms and more than patient with them.

You looked past Venarion, seeing Angwen sitting on a stool and polishing one of the keepsakes from Minas Morgul she prided over. Thankfully, they were no Morgul blades but simple and cruel looking daggers. She gingerly handled the blades, taking care to not prick herself in the process. The weapons almost looked black as they gleamed in the sunlight.

The scene eased your heart and mind. All was well. Things were as normal as they could be. Life was ordinary and uneventful but you could not complain. You had your share of adventure and would never hunger for it again.

And time passed and there was no sign of a letter. For every day that it did not show up, it was a perfect and easy one. Your anxiety was held at bay and you were confident that Anardil had understood and realized how much a fool he made of himself.

"Venarion," you called. "I'll have need of your muscles shortly, I need help carrying these baskets."

"Say when, Sister," Venarion replied, looking up at you as you remained in your perch. "I'll help you."

"Angwen, it'd be appreciated if you helped as well!"

"I'm almost done, Isilmë," the younger woman answered. She gripped the hilt of the dagger, testing the feel of it and the leather under her fingers. "I still want that flail. Your husband had an exquisite armory, Sister. That was what I admired the most about him."

"That flail probably weighed more than all three of us combined and then doubled." You sighed as the mention brought back the memories. Soundlessly, you retreated back into the concealing canopy. "Let us not speak of the dead today." You made sure neither of them heard those words.

You carefully moved down the ladder, looking about to see if there were any apples you might've overlooked. It seemed as if you had done a job well done with your harvesting.

But then you nearly fell off the ladder when you heard the hens squawk loudly in alarm. You reaffirmed your grip on object and remained still for a moment, feeling as if your heart was about to burst.

"What's gotten into those birds?" Angwen complained.

"Isilmë!" Venarion urgently called. "Come quick!"

The tone in your brother's voice was enough to summon you. You quickly but carefully climbed down and rushed over to his side. The chickens had scattered and hid themselves amongst the patches of wildflowers and the rose bush around the back of your house. Your brother's head was turned up to the old oak tree about thirty feet away.

When you looked in the same direction Venarion was, your heart almost ceased to beat. Perched on one of the thick, knotty branches sat an impressive-looking and large hawk. The hawk eyed your brother then turned its light brown orbs on you as you approached. As you drew closer, you could see something attached to one of its feet.

A cold sweat enveloped you as it took you no time at all to recognize this bird. Sûlkir had another message to deliver. This business was not finished.

But what shocked you the most was that she located you. It appeared that she meant to deliver it to you personally.

"Someone, go get some gloves," you said, not taking your eyes off the bird. "And get her something to eat while you're running about."

Angwen was dumbfounded when she beheld the messenger hawk. Yet she quickly overcame her astonishment and raced into the house to locate the items you required.

Sûlkir stared back at you expectantly. Her head tilted to the side slightly and she dropped to a lower branch, making her way closer to the ground.

"Maybe she followed us home when we released her that day," Venarion said. "I don't know how to explain this."

"This is one intelligent hawk," you laughed in disbelief. "I think you made an impression on her, Venarion."

"And yet she's looking at you, Isilmë."

You flinched and gasped when Sûlkir glided from the oak tree and landed atop the chicken coop. The coop was only six feet away from where you stood and was at your eye level. You remained still and stared back at the hawk. She didn't seem aggressive or defensive but she was a large bird and you knew her curved, wicked talons and sharp, hooked beak could do serious damage if she was motivated enough. You just didn't want to make the wrong move and end up missing half of your face.

There most certainly was a letter attached to the band around her foot. But you tried to swallow your mounting panic. There was no need to be so anxious already. You had yet to read the letter anyway.

Thankfully, another minute passed and Angwen returned. She bore gloves in one hand and in the other, some leftovers from last night's dinner; quail.

"Thank you," you nodded as she walked over to your side.

Without a word, she handed you the gloves. You took them without hesitation.

"Let me wear these," you said. "I'd rather her attack me than either of you."

"She won't hurt you, Sister," Venarion assured. "She looks calm."

"We shall see…"

You put the gloves on and took a few steps closer to the coop's roof where she was perched. Sûlkir leaned forward, understanding your gesture and recalling on her training. You remained as calm as possible, wanting to show her that you meant no harm.

When you inched closer, she grasped onto your glove with the tip of her beak. You stopped when she did that and then stepped up onto your covered hand. Her taloned feet wrapped around it but she almost seemed careful as she secured herself.

"Ah, you handle yourself like a royal lady, Sûlkir," you smiled warmly. You turned your head to the side momentarily. "Venarion, unfasten the letter, please."

He came forward slowly, showing the bird respect. Sûlkir briefly looked to him, blinked and then refocused her wild but soft eyes on your own.

"Who is your master, Sûlkir?" you spoke calmly. You laughed to yourself, this was foolish. This hawk couldn't speak regardless of how intelligent it was. "Is it the King? Is it King Aragorn? …or is your master Anardil?"

It was strange, but it seemed as if her eyes seemed to widen for a moment at the mention of the latter name. She remained calm and trusting as Venarion untied the letter from her band. It felt odd to trust the hawk but you were still wary. She was still an untamed soul and you'd be ever mindful of that.

When your brother finished with his task, you reached towards the coop so the messenger hawk could step off your hand. Willingly, the bird obeyed and clambered up onto the structure's roof. She remained perched, watching you and your remaining family members curiously.

"Thank you, Brother," you said, taking your gloves off. "Now, do you want to earn her friendship again? Be mindful of her."

Venarion smiled and accepted the quail meat from Angwen. He approached Sûlkir and held out one of the chunks to her. The hawk unhesitatingly accepted the food and daintily plucked it from his fingers.

Your hands trembled as you held the letter in your hands. You started to breathe heavier and you felt your anxiety building up rapidly.

"I was hoping he wouldn't reply…" you bemoaned.

"You're mad," Angwen rolled her eyes. "Let me do this." She swiped the letter out of your hands fluidly and eyed the receipt. "Anardil, son of Minastir. This is certainly your gentleman caller."

"Shut up."

Angwen unraveled the parchment and let out a small gasp. Atop the script there sat three more flowers of the White Tree.

"You cannot be serious!" you cried out in exasperation. "He is insane! Did he disregard everything I illustrated in my letter?! Who does he think he is?!"

" _I asked the King for one more flower_ ," Angwen read aloud, tenderly moving the flowers aside and reading the dreaded contents. " _He gave me three to give to you, my dear. And do not return these for they are indeed meant for you. I am fully aware of what I am doing and I will not be deterred. I know who you are and I desire you most ardently and dearly. I know you are Isilmë, daughter of Kalahir and Marigold and granddaughter of Aldahir, Ranger of the North. Your siblings are Mitharion, Lithwen, Angwen and Venarion. Almost all of your family was killed in an Orc attack by the ruins of Weathertop. Only Angwen and Venarion survived the tragedy…_ "

"I cannot believe the gall and insensitivity of this miscreant!" you ranted. "How dare he speak of this!"

"I-I don't know what to say," Angwen hesitated, feeling genuinely uneasy. "Is this some member of the court that watched us from afar and gathered information about us but never introduced himself? Is he some sort of stalker? Is he a spy?"

"Give it to me!"

Now it was your turn to snatch the letter from her. You were greatly tempted to light a fire, shred the letter to a million pieces and then toss those fragments into the flames. But you needed to read more.

" _I know you well but as I have said in my earlier letters, please be patient,_ " you picked up. " _I know I composed a third letter for you and you did not accept it and sent me one of your own. Perhaps it was shortsighted of me to not assume you'd send one in return. I apologize for not encouraging you to send a reply in the beginning. I do dislike withholding things from you yet, in truth, I wish to surprise you. I cannot disclose my identity just yet. I hope to reveal it to you when I look upon you with my own eyes_.

 _But I will tell you these things. We do know each other. And I am sorry, I do not see you as a friend nor would I pursue that route. My heart forbids it. I desire you far more powerfully than that. My wish is to be with you until the Gift of Men separates us. That is what I want more than anything else on this beautiful, peaceful, good earth. A dragon's hoard could not fill the hole in my heart. Another woman's touch is anathema. This hunger and thirst of my mind, body and soul can only be satisfied by you. A life with you is my life, in fact._ "

"This man is insane," Angwen commented. "First I was amused but now I am frightened."

"And my fear has been chased off by my rage," you snarled. "This arrogant, delusional, dense soul!" You huffed in disgust and continued reading out loud. " _I cannot tell you who I am exactly but I can give you what makes me. From those details, you may discover my identity. I still want my appearance to be a surprise to you for when you see me, all things will be made clear. You will understand. And now I give to you, my love, my riddle._

_My name is Anardil and my father is Minastir. I lied to my family and made them think Ulmo was my keeper. I too am from the West but I am not your close neighbor. In the beginning, I was dedicated to sun and sea and then to darkness and despair and then back again. I have defied fire and dared to deviate. Into doom I have trod and would happily do so again. I was lost but then I was found. Who am I?_

_Regrettably, I am terrible with riddles as you can see. I will not write to you again as I fully intend to see you soon. As I am composing this, I lay beside a campfire under the starry sky. I am coming. Again, I plan to see you before winter-fall._

_Also, do not mourn the loss of the man you loved. It is pointless as you shall see soon enough. Besides, he understands your heart. It shall be healed faster than you think. Please, do not think of me as arrogant and ill suited. All will be made clear soon._

_I love you._

_Yours, Anardil."_

You were left speechless once you finished reading. All you could do was stand your ground and try to process what was written.

"He's coming?" Angwen said, making sure the information was correct.

"It appears so," you dourly stated. "Let him come. I will make him understand that I want nothing to do with him. Curse his riddle and curse him!"

This insensitivity and determination shocked you. All you could focus on was the anger and hurt you felt roiling inside you. And you could hardly believe how he disrespected your husband like this. Anardil had the impertinence to believe he could fill and heal the hole in your heart that had been wrought with the death of your beloved.

"He is witless!" you raved. "He doesn't love me for I don't even know him! These letters are nothing more than the inane, written ramblings of a lunatic! I don't want his love, I don't want his gifts! The man I wanted and loved is dead! And I question the stability of the King's mind if he is harboring such a dishonorable and deplorable man in his favor!"

"We must be ready for when he arrives," Angwen decided. "We shall confront him together. Perhaps we should ask Veronica's husband to be with us for when he arrives? He is a soldier after all and his skill and strength may help us if things take a turn for the worst."

"No. I will have the strength and might of ten Men of Gondor when I meet this stranger face to face! He will regret this!"

Sûlkir remained on her perch, eyeing you vigilantly while you spoke in your frantic and wrathful voice. She seemed to be watching you closely and was no longer so interested in the quail meat Venarion was giving her.

You could feel the eyes of the beast on you and you whipped around, facing Sûlkir. Her feathers puffed up and she didn't break her gaze from yours.

"Thank you, Sûlkir," you said. "Go back to your master and defecate on his head for me. I am sorry you are tethered to such an insane and dull creature. You seem to have more wits and manners than he does."

You tossed the letter aside and walked away, your mood instantly turned rotten and unpleasant over this development. You would go inside and remain in your room for the rest of the day. This man had directly attacked the memory of the husband you hardly knew but loved dearly. He had ignored what you asked of him and still sought to pursue you. This would not be forgiven so easily.

Angwen looked down at her hands, observing the delicate, white flowers. They smelled heavenly and they were still soft. The silver leaves gleamed in the sunlight. She could not bring herself to destroy them.

Venarion picked up the letter you discarded. He leaned against the chicken coop and briefly looked over the script. Sûlkir craned her head closer to the boy, interested in whatever his eyes were locked onto.

"I'll take up the challenge," he whispered to himself. "Surely this shouldn't be too hard to solve."


	4. Red December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover who Anardil really is and not in the way that you preferred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos guys! Kay, I promise that some good stuff happens in this one. I know the buildup was a bit slow but here’s where things go from 0 to 100. I know I was anticipating getting this one done and posting it so I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 4 Red December

(December – library)

It was a quiet and placid day. Due to the cold and worsening weather, one would assume the library would have more patrons. But it seemed that folks were keener on staying indoors and warming their bones by the fireplace. They preferred to stay in the comfort of their homes on this particular day. The skies overhead were thick with gray, gloomy clouds, looking as if they were threatening to bring some sort of precipitation. It would most likely bring either cold, freezing rain or snow itself.

With virtually no one coming in the library on this day, you decided to resume your project. But on this day, you were granted a most unexpected but welcome assistant. Venarion accompanied you to your workplace and again expressed his desire to help you try to uncover the truth. You couldn't refuse his help. Perhaps another mind and pair of eyes would help you find something you might have overlooked previously.

At first, you carried out this labor with secrecy and was reluctant to disclose its progress with your brother and sister. Yet as time went by and as Venarion openly admitted to you that he was curious with your work, you were far more open to discuss it. Angwen remained disapproving and thought it was best to leave the past in the past. She believed it was never meant to be discovered. So to have an ally in your brother was comforting.

Also, as Anardil promised, no more letters came. He said he still intended to arrive but you were prepared to deal with the Man when or if he ever showed up. You were prepared and weren't afraid to become forceful especially if he insisted on remaining inappropriate and insistent. You were poised to put an end to this madness.

At first you were tempted to have Brandir, Veronica's husband, on hand in case if things took a turn for the worst. But you decided against it. You didn't want to make your friend fret or risk injury to Brandir if a fight broke out. You decided this was a matter you would have to confront on your own. Veronica had her son to take care of and you telling her about this strange admirer would most likely vex and cause her to become concerned or obsessive. That was something you didn't want to risk.

The first day of winter was only a few days away. Anardil was running out of time. You were doubtful that he would even arrive before the coming of this frigid season to begin with. But you reckoned that if he remained on schedule and his road blocks were as minimal as possible, it could be done.

All you could do was wait. But in the meantime, it would be business as usual.

You looked at the list of dates that you noted. At the very bottom of this list of dates was when the Nazgûl first appeared; The Second Age, 2251. At the top of the list was the time when Sauron had sacked Eregion and seized the rings of Men and Dwarves for himself; The Second Age, 1697. Within those years, he lived, acquired his ring and then subsequently was enslaved. Nearly six hundred years of candidates was presented to you.

And the second clue you had were the legends and tales of the Wraiths that passed through the generations of your folk. Of the Nine, only one was concretely identified. That was Khamûl, the Black Easterling, the Shadow of the East. He was the only one of his dark brotherhood to be remembered by name. The other clue laid in the knowledge that three of the them were lords of Númenor. And it was largely suspected that the Witch-king himself was a Númenorean.

It took some centuries to enthrall their souls as well. The magic that the rings wrought upon their victims was subtle but powerful. And from what the Witch-king disclosed to you about being the last to join the Nazgûl, it made you suspect that perhaps his transformation happened in the same year that they made their official debut or at least a few years before that date.

You had your theories and thoughts but that was all that they were. You already made up your mind that as soon as winter passed, you'd journey to Minas Tirith. No longer would you stand being denied. When April arrived, you'd depart and delve into the dusty and extensive archives. There'd be no stopping you. You hoped you'd leave the White City, enlightened and satisfied.

But you would surrender to fate if you found nothing. It was a scenario you couldn't dismiss. If you left as ignorant as when you arrived, then it'd be obvious to you that you would have to remain unlearned until death came for you. You would no longer fight.

"Isilmë."

You turned to face your brother. He tapped the tip of his quill on the surface of a piece of paper. Though he addressed you, he did not look at you.

"Yes, Venarion?" you asked.

"I have been thinking a lot about this whole thing," he said. Finally, he locked his gaze with yours. "Do you remember the riddle in the last letter?"

You wrinkled your nose and exhaled shortly. You waved your hand dismissively and shook your head. It was out of sight and out of mind as far as you were concerned. You read it and never wanted to look at the accursed parchment again.

"I am trying my hardest to forget it, Brother," you retorted.

"I know the answer to the riddle," he unveiled. "And I think it ties in directly to your project."

Your mouth turned dry. Your fingers began to tremble slightly and you folded your hands together to disguise the subtle movement. A sense of apprehension and dread washed over you. You had no clue why you felt this way and you couldn't stop it. Before he could even explain himself, you found yourself haunted and anxious.

"Listen to me, Sister," Venarion begged, sensing your uneasiness. "Please, these are my honest thoughts and I would not lie to you about them." He cleared his throat and paused for a moment, making sure he was ready to full present his argument to you. "Anardil means ‘devoted to the sun’. It's literally the meaning of his name. He was devoted to sun and sea and as you may remember, our ancestors, the Númenoreans, were great sailors. He was devoted to sun and sea, then fell to darkness and then returned to his origins. He said he lied to his family and made them think he was in the care of Ulmo afterwards… I'm not sure what that means but Ulmo controls all the waters…" Venarion paused and he nodded, coming to this realization. "Perhaps he faked his death. Maybe he made it look like a drowning. He said he was our neighbor but not quite. He said he was from the West which I think he means he is from Númenor. He went forth into doom which I suspect is two different things, Sister. Doom as in death and Doom as in the mountain. When he defied fire, I think he meant the Eye itself. He was lost and then found. He was lost in darkness and then he found redemption. And the last point is this… Minastir is his father. Minastir was a king of Númenor."

Your eyes grew wider and larger as Venarion explained himself. A realization was manifesting in your mind but you refused to believe it. It was simply impossible. There was no way that it could happen. What was done was done. He was at peace and gone. You wouldn't see him again until you entered Mandos' hallowed halls.

Not only that, you were surprised that he even bothered to ponder over the riddle. You certainly didn’t care about it. But it seemed that your brother thought long and hard over it. His answer was extensive and thorough, so much so that you were secretly impressed. Venarion was cleverer than he let on at times. And it was smart of him to look for clues to the riddle as he helped you with your endeavors. 

"Minastir surrendered his throne to his son, Ciryatan, and it was said a shadow appeared during his reign," Venarion continued. "Slowly, Númenoreans began to turn from the old ways and in the end, they embraced the deceit of Sauron."

"But Minastir's only child was Ciryatan," you argued.

"According to the information you have. Maybe Ciryatan had a younger brother who was lost to history. Maybe Sauron gave a ring to that brother and then he was erased from the records for one reason or another."

"You…you think Anardil and the Witch-king are the same person?"

"Yes, Isilmë. He knows you. He knows us. When I read that letter, I thought of him. I don't know how but I think he has returned. And how else was he able to figure out where we live and deliver those letters? He came for you that one night, Sister. He was at our house once before and perhaps he never forgot where it was."

It made no sense. He had no reason to come back to the world. He made his choice, perished and he was finally able to rest in peace. At long last, he could rest easy without the constant and choking yoke of his master.

He couldn't have been living with the King. He couldn't have been creating these infuriating and cryptic notes. It was impossible.

"You know the old legend," Venarion persisted, "you know what I mean. Mandos himself was moved to pity for Lúthien and Beren. Maybe he was moved by the Witch-king too."

"Impossible," you huffed. "I believe the Valar would indeed forgive him for his crimes seeing as he was influenced and bound by Sauron. They would forgive him but I do not think they would allow him this second chance. That seems so unlikely."

"But strange things do happen, Sister. Your whole ordeal with him happened and look at all of it. He was freed from Sauron's malice and he smote him when he was granted that opportunity. Now the Dark Lord will never rise again in Middle Earth. He is finished."

"I cannot believe it."

"Trust me, Isilmë! You think I'm a liar?"

"Never! But I think you are mistaken. I think you are sympathetic and I thank you for that, Venarion. You are far more understanding and tender regarding this delicate matter than Angwen is. I am fortunate you are this way…" You shook your head and sighed heavily. "It simply cannot be."

"Wait for Anardil to show up. We will know the truth then, I'm sure of it. If I'm wrong, then it's all my fault."

"I suppose I have resigned to waiting for this fellow. I'm not leaving for Minas Tirith until April. He has until that month to show up."

"Fair enough."

You gave your youngest sibling a small smile. You rested a hand on his head and stroked his hair, looking upon him fondly.

"I appreciate your help and thoughtfulness," you said. "You will grow up into a fine, sensible and honorable man, Venarion. Whoever marries you will be very lucky to have you. Do not ever change. I am honored to have you as my brother. I know I am trying my best to raise you and follow in our parents' footsteps. I thank you for your patience too."

"You're doing a good job, Sister," he assured you. "I know you only want what's best for Angwen and I. You became like a mother to us and you never abandoned us."

"You two are all I have left in this world. We have each other and no others. I would be mad if I had forsaken the only two surviving members of my family." You drew your hand away from his head. "This day is too slow and I cannot see someone coming in today. How about we go home early?"

"I'd like that."

"As would I. There are many more days that patrons can come in. Winter is a long, tedious and dreary season…" You smiled. "Help me organize some of this mess and close the library down then we can do home. How's that?"

"I can happily do that, Sister."

(…)

You knew something was amiss when you saw Angwen lingering at the front gate and gazing down the road expectantly in your direction. From afar, you could see her practically hanging off the gate. She waved to you urgently, encouraging you to hurry. She bounced in place and she truly looked panicked.

Something was wrong.

Venarion sprinted forward, leaving you behind. You hesitated for a moment, feeling dread melting into the pit of your stomach. Despite it being cold, you could feel yourself break out into a sweat.

"Angwen!" Venarion called. "What's wrong?"

"Just follow me!" the bold maiden entreated.

She flung the gate open and raced back towards the direction of your house. Seconds after the gate opened, Venarion pushed past it, following after her.

Maybe Anardil had arrived and he was far from pleased.

A shuddered exhale came from you. Something happened and it wasn't pleasant, that much you could tell. This was not good.

Finally, you sprinted towards your property. You ran as fast as you could, nearly tripping over your long skirt in the process. While it kept you warm, in a situation like this, it was a mighty inconvenience. You resorted to lifting it slightly so you wouldn't tumble face forward.

When you passed the gate, you looked forward to your house. You didn't spot neither of your siblings around it. Your head turned and twisted, seeing if they lingered somewhere in the yard. Everything seemed fine and intact as far as you could tell. But you knew things couldn't have been as they seemed.

You caught sight of their shapes by the chicken coop. When you ran closer to their position, you spotted something perched atop the structure. They were facing the object but seemed to place a few feet between themselves and it. They seemed cautious and wary.

Your blood ran cold when you saw it was a large hawk. Your heart almost skipped a few beats and your eyes widened.

Sûlkir had arrived.

You slowed down when you drew closer. It was indeed the messenger hawk from Minas Tirith. But when you approached more and more, you noticed there was something…off. Angwen and Venarion were chatting nervously amongst themselves and warily gazed back at Sûlkir, almost looking unsure what to do.

"What is this?" you asked.

"Look at her!" Angwen commanded.

Finally, you made it to their side. Although the sun was getting lower in the sky, you could see the bird well enough. The air from your lungs was promptly robbed from you when you looked upon her fully.

Sûlkir's feathers were disheveled and unkempt. It looked like as if she was in a fight of some sort. And smeared over her was blood, some of it dry and other patches, damp and fresh. Her eyes were widened and you saw fear in them.

"I heard a tapping on the window and I looked up to see that bird sitting on the window ledge!" Angwen rambled. Clearly, she sounded panicked. "I ran outside to see what was going on and she moved to the coop! Isilmë, she's drenched in blood! I counted all the chickens and she didn't kill any of them. She's not carrying any letters either…" The young woman paced nervously. "And she won't leave!"

"She doesn't look injured," Venarion noted. "I don't think this is her blood."

"When did she show up?" you asked your sister.

"She's only been here a few minutes," Angwen revealed. "Thank the Valar you came home early because I was going to take one of the horses and run down to the library! I don't know what to do!"

You could feel Sûlkir's wild, sharp eyes fall upon you. Her beak was parted and she panted. Her feathered chest heaved and her wings were subtly spread from her body. She almost looked as equally panicked as Angwen.

You stared back at the bird. There was something vaguely human in her eyes. There was a pleading look to them. She came here for something and the longer you looked back at her, the more convinced and startled you became.

Today, her errand was a most dire matter. This wasn't something that couldn't be delayed.

"Something happened to Anardil," you realized. You couldn't dismiss the possibility that it was the blood of the Man on her. "She came here because he needs help. She wanted to fetch us."

Angwen and Venarion gaped back at you.

"That's his blood on her feathers?" Angwen said, sounding horrified at your suggestion.

"It's possible," you retorted. "She's scared, look at her. She came to us and has no letter? She came to us for help!"

Although Anardil infuriated and insulted the memory of your beloved with those persistent and declaratory letters, you could feel no anger towards him in this hour. It was very possible that his life was in the balance. For some reason, Sûlkir felt it wise to come to your home and ask for help. Apparently, she trusted you and your family enough to reach out like this. Regardless, you had a sinking feeling that time was of the essence.

You could not abandon him to a miserable death. You would forever be ashamed of yourself if you didn't help. His blood would be on your hands if you didn't try something. He may have angered you but you weren't heartless.

The intelligent hawk continued to stare back at you with desperation. You had never seen an animal look so scared. Silently, she pleaded with you. Though she was a beast and could not speak, you understood her perfectly enough. There were some things that transcended species and was a matter any worthy enough creature could understand whether they walked, flew, slithered or swam.

"Angwen, go into the house and let's gather some blankets, cloth and furs," you instructed, making up your mind. "Venarion, gather the horses and light a torch."

"We're going?" Angwen asked, shocked.

"We're not going to let someone die and have it torment our conscious forever. We are better than that. We try to help others if we can. We try to do the right thing!"

Briefly, your head turned to the sky, surveying it. The light continued to dwindle as the sun sunk into the West. It would most likely be completely dark in under an hour and a half. You had to make the best of the remaining time that you had. The heavy cloud cover lingered and with it, it bore a chilled, slicing wind. Snow was certainly coming. If you didn't find this Man in enough time, it was possible that the cold night would claim him.

Venarion had run off to ready the horses for departure. Angwen hurried to the house but paused in the doorway, turning back to you.

"How will we find him?" she asked.

"Sûlkir will show us the way," you said, turning to face your sister. "If she can find us and attract our attention, she can bring us to him. She will do her part and then we will do ours." You left the hawk's side, trusting her to remain until you made your hasty but necessary preparations. You jogged after your sister, knowing that the sun and time was not on your side. "We have to hurry! Go!"

(…)

In the rapidly dying light of the December sun, you followed the hawk. Venarion and Angwen rode behind you, keeping up with you as you urged your horse on to tail Sûlkir. The sun sunk lower over the horizon and without its light and warmth, it instantly began to become colder. Hot breath steamed as it came from your mouth and stray snowflakes kissed your cheeks as you rode into the twilight.

The darkening shape of the hawk guided you and you followed after her. The mental image of Sûlkir smeared in blood would be forever burnt into your memory. Though you were angry at the audacity and arrogance of Anardil in his letters, neither could you abandon him to death. You could not forsake him and abandon him to the coming of winter. You didn't have the heart to leave him to his fate. You had to help and do whatever you could.

"Sister!" Angwen called. "It's getting so dark! I hope we can find him!"

"All we can do is trust Sûlkir!" you yelled back at her. "I do not know what has happened but it certainly wasn't a happy incident! And that is what our torch is for, it will help us!"

The light faded further. The snow began to fall harder and the winds started to pick up. Although the shadow in the North had been dispelled at long last some time ago, this cold reminded you of the treacherous winters and blizzards that tore through the region over a millennium ago. Though you weren't even thought of during those dark days, you could only imagine what they were like. Your grandfather's tales of conjured, biting cold and killing frost lingered in the back of your mind.

You panicked when you lost sight of the hawk. You slowed down, trying to locate the bird amidst the hastening dark. The thick, impregnable clouds overhead blotted out any possible moon and starlight, further hindering your efforts. Even though some snow covered the ground and didn't make your path totally unseen, the fact that you lost sight of your guide made it all the more urgent and harrowing.

"Sûlkir!" you called out.

When you swallowed, it was as if you were trying to gulp down a rock. Frantically, your eyes remained on the sky, hoping to catch sight of her again. It seemed that with each second that went by, it became darker and more damning.

"Do any of you see her?!" you shot back at your family members.

"I'm trying, Isilmë!" Venarion answered, fear leeching into his voice.

"It's too dark!" Angwen bemoaned. "We may have to wait until sunrise!"

"No, no, we cannot!" you shook your head adamantly. "We can't abandon him! We are better than that! We are not faithless and ruthless!"

The piercing, shrill cry of a hawk shattered the frigid silence. As soon as you reckoned what direction that came from, you bade your horse to press on. All you could do was move towards that place where you heard her call out to you. You had no idea whatever your eyes would befall but all you knew was that you had to be prepared no matter how ugly it was.

The torch that Angwen bore lit up ground around you. The fire flickered and danced as the wind blew and you hoped and prayed it would stay alight for as long as possible. You brought a spare kindling kit in case if it did go out but if the wind remained unmerciful, you knew there would be no light.

You came to a screeching halt when you spotted a crimson splotch, tainting the white snow. It was all too easy to see and was impossible to miss. It was a clue, albeit a grim one. You were in the right place.

Hastily, you dismounted. The sound of your brother and sister stopping and clambering down as well was encouraging. Angwen held the torch in one hand and followed after you as you hurried into the cold woods.

"Isilmë!" she called. "We must tread cautiously!"

You heard her words but they meant nothing to you. As you wandered deeper into the area, you could see the flecks of crimson fluid, some stray droplets, others copious puddles. There were footprints in the snow, belying that multiple people were in the area. This was a killing ground. Something terrible did happen.

"Are there actually Orcs here?" Venarion said. "Did they become desperate and leave the mountains?"

Your answer was provided when you nearly tripped over a corpse. It belonged to a Man who wore the garb of the Rangers of Gondor. His body was laying face up and his eyes were open yet they perceived nothing. He rested lifelessly in a pool of his own blood and there was a horrid injury on his abdomen that was clearly what had killed him. It appeared he had been stabbed by a sword and perished from that injury.

"An ambush," Angwen said, her voice a whisper.

The snow increased slowly but surely. The tiny, wispy flakes started to become larger and more rotund. When the wind blew, the fire flickered more and more. The odds were not in your favor.

All three of you were snapped out of your stunned stupor when you heard Sûlkir cry again.

"She's closer!" Venarion said with a tinge of hope in his tone.

You and your kin walked closely to each other, your eyes focused on whatever might be lurking in the woods around you. It was totally possible that whatever killed this Man might've been nearby still. As far as you were concerned, you refused to perish on this night. Each of you were armed and were ready to defend yourselves in an instant if the need was indeed deadly enough.

As you walked closer to Sûlkir's direction, you witnessed more signs of carnage and slaughter. There were more footprints and blood. There was a dropped sword, a few broken, bloody arrows, and gruesomely enough, a severed arm that still tightly clutched to a dagger in its hand. A few more bodies were encountered, all of them wearing garb of the Rangers of Gondor. One of those bodies was also cleanly decapitated and it appeared all of them had been felled by a sword.

Towards the hawk's reckoned location, there was another trail of blood. It was farther off from the predominant area of whatever this fight, confrontation or ambush was. The trail became heavier and the footprints that were spotted with the blood looked large. In fact, they looked larger than the other footprints you had seen. This trail appeared to belong to a Man that was taller than the Rangers. The footprints were also rather sloppy and it looked like the feet were being dragged or the footing was unstable.

With baited breaths and racing hearts, the three of you walked forward. You all dreaded what awaited at the end of the trail. It was totally possible this may have been a trap. Perhaps you were about to stumble upon a very large, injured Orc. There was simply no way to know unless you reached the end of this morbid trek.

Then you saw it.

Sûlkir was lightly perched atop a shape that was laying face down on the frosty earth. She bobbed her head erratically and beat her wings, beckoning you to come closer. She had finally lured you to your destination.

At first glance, you thought the shape was that of a strangely shaped log or rock and that was only due to the black garb this person was wearing all over. They were lying in a puddle of their blood and a thin layer of snow began to cover them. At their side was a long, gleaming, iron sword that seemed to reflect the light of the torch. The blade glistened with blood and sinew and it was clearly the object that had been the killer of the slain Rangers. As you took in the shape of their body, you could see arrows, some broken and others intact sticking out of their back, arm and shin.

But your eyes had to have been tricking you. The robes and the armor this being wore were too familiar. Perhaps this was all some illusion or dream your fevered and frightened mind conjured. All you knew was that this couldn't be real. It was impossible.

Sûlkir hopped off the still shape of her master. She stood off to the side, her form shaking and clearly looking agitated or nervous.

"Turn him over, we need to see if he's alive," Angwen said. "I can't tell."

You were frozen in your spot. Angwen thrust the torch into your hand and you numbly accepted it. She and Venarion gingerly knelt down and grunted as they turned the Man over onto his side. You saw them struggle as they maneuvered his large frame.

Seconds later, you could hear your sister gasp loudly. She stumbled backwards, almost falling over in the process. There was a frantic, fearful look in her eyes and she looked legitimately scared.

"He has no face!" she announced. "There is nothing there!

The torch fell out of your hands. It danced and glowed, still alight as it lain about the cold ground. You fell to your knees and looked upon the hood that should have covered his head. Shakily, you leaned in closer.

Your sister was right. There was no face.

"W-what is this..?" you uttered frantically.

"He's wearing leather gauntlets bearing the Tree of Gondor," Venarion said, pointing to said equipment. The confusion and amazement on his face was all too visible. "What is happening?"

"Impossible!" Angwen said in a hushed but startled tone. "He died in the fiery maelstrom! Nothing could ever survive that!"

None of this made sense. You simply couldn't understand what your eyes were seeing. This had to have been some trick. Maybe some sorcerer had lured you in was about to lay a fell enchantment upon you.

It…was impossible. He died. You knew that he died. He meant to sacrifice himself to make sure the Ring would truly be destroyed.

Venarion plucked a piece of parchment from the dark, fur-lined robes the faceless Man wore. You could see your brother's eyes widen the longer he stared at it. The hand that held it visibly shook.

"It's your letter, Isilmë," he said weakly. "He has your letter."

You snatched it out of his hand, wanting to see it for yourself. One of your hands covered your mouth as you read it. Tears seeped from your eyes. The first flower Anardil had given to you was there as well.

You could scarcely comprehend what was unfolding. He had indeed died, he had to have. But yet, here he was. Your husband somehow survived and he was making his way to you. It was he who had been sending you these letters.

Finally, you knew his name. Now, you knew what to call him.

"He's alive!" Angwen gasped.

A weak and rattling sigh came from his mouth. His breathing was so shallow that it was almost undetectable. With the minute amount of strength he had left, he lifted his head up, looking at you.

"It is not winter yet."

It was him. You could no longer deny it.

Now he lay dying.

"Venarion, grab the horses!" you ordered. "We need to hoist him up onto one of them!"

The boy didn't waste another moment and he plucked up the torch. He ran off into the accumulating snow fall to fetch the horses.

"Is it really you?" Angwen murmured. She knelt down beside you and stared into the invisible face inside the seemingly empty hood. "Has the Witch-king cheated death once again?" She hesitated for a moment but she grasped onto one of his hands. "Keep talking, it will keep you awake. Do not fall asleep."

"Stay with us," your urged, your voice cracking. Your leaned towards his face and kissed him. "Sûlkir led us to you. She is a loyal and loving companion of yours, my king."

"I am no king," he said tiredly.

"You are my king. You are my husband. Heed Angwen's words, my love, stay with us."

"I am…I am mortal again. I was sent back for you. I refuse to die here and now." He rasped and he shifted on the earth. "I want my wife."

"I'm here, I'm here…" You wept, keeping close to him. "You mustn't exert yourself too much. You are very weak and injured."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes, of course! You are my husband! I will not abandon you."

"And you still love me?"

"Forever…" You cupped his face and kissed him again. "I love you."

"Then I shall not die."

His resolve was like iron. He would not die of his injuries and become a frozen corpse. You had come for him and he would endure. He had a future in his grasp that he would not surrender. He had been given it and there was no way he could ever forsake it or let some begrudging, spiteful villain sabotage it.

The promise of a life reaffirmed him. Momentarily, he had fallen into despair and woe. He had assumed this was a cruel twist of fate and he was to be denied. But when he heard and saw you, he was saved.

He was with you. He was finally home.


	5. The Return of the Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This definitely needed an explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love, everyone! Hopefully this chapter ain’t too corny. And there’ll be a lot info-dumping/headcanon stuff going on here too. Questions will be answered and I’m sure there’ll be some other ones spawned that should get answered in the next chapter. After this one, there will be two more and then that’s it I think. The end is in sight folks! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 5 The Return of the Prince

(…)

_She stood before him as a vision of familiarity and beauty. For a moment, he almost couldn't believe that he perceived his latest love was standing before him in the Undying Lands. His mind was vexed for the briefest of instances before he realized it was impossible. The one who presented herself to him was the one from so long ago. She was the first wife, not the second._

_Aredhel._

_"Anardil, it has been so long."_

_Her smile brought tears to his eyes. Her voice made his heart flutter. His hands trembled, disbelieving he was actually standing before her once more. All of it seemed like a dream to him but it was indeed a reality. No longer was he locked within the realm of living death and slavery. He was truly freed and no longer had to fear, serve and be dehumanized._

_And she spoke his old name with such gentleness and affection. The name was so unfamiliar and yet so nostalgic. For so long, he had forgotten it and to hear it again was a strange feeling. He would have to get used to being called by his true, long forgotten name._

_"I knew that one day we would see each other again," she smiled, tears on the cusps of her eyelids. "You are as handsome and bright as I remembered you to be, my dear."_

_But that horrid, ugly memory remained. The redeemed Wraith felt shame and sorrow overcome him for as long as he stared back at her. He could not be rid of that past sin. Because of that ring, he lashed out and mindlessly slew her._

_"Please tell me you do not forgive me so easily," he finally managed to croak out._

_"I have forgiven you long ago," Aredhel said solemnly. "I have forgiven you and hoped for you for so long. I knew that deep down, despite it all, you were good and virtuous at your core. I lamented over the insidious thralldom you had been led into. Long had I pleaded with Mandos for mercy for you, my dear. And I am happy you were finally freed."_

_"As am I, dear Aredhel." He set his hands upon her cheeks, cupping her face sweetly. He sniffled as he looked upon her, seeing you but knowing it was not. "Four thousand years has been much too long. I was long overdue for these Halls. But it was strange… Mandos did not pass judgment onto me and urged me to seek you first." He swallowed anxiously. "Am I to see you before he casts me into the Void?"_

_"No, Anardil." She smiled warmly at him. "There is something you must understand, my sweet prince."_

_"Pray, tell what is it? I must know!"_

_"I know The One had intervened and freed you from your master. He gave you your free will back. He bade you to make your choice and he did not persuade you any further. Anardil, you made the right choice. You delivered the Ringbearer from insufferable torment. You have saved nations and thus, countless lives in the process. You have freed the souls of your brothers in arms. You have pushed Sauron into the maw of justice. You have ushered in a long sought and earned peace for all of Middle Earth. Though you were once Sauron's right hand, greatest of the Nine, you remembered who you were."_

_"I couldn't afford to let Sauron persist any longer, that was all I knew. I had finally been freed and I couldn't allow him to walk upon the earth anymore. If I had done nothing or if I gave him his Ring, I would deserve the worst of everything. I would be as cursed and reviled as Sauron and Morgoth themselves."_

_"What matters is that you chose correctly and you sacrificed yourself in the process. Your act will not be forgotten. Anardil, the Valar pardon you. Though your transgressions as the Witch-king of Angmar were many and fell, they have been moved to mercy and pity. They believe, that since Eru Ilúvatar himself had intervened and touched your soul, you must be pardoned. For no one understands the mind and workings of The One. Not even mighty Manwë can fully interpret him."_

_Redemption was indeed his. He was being pardoned and was allowed to enjoy paradise and light. His sins, though numerous and grievous, were forgiven. Despite his evil, the higher powers saw through his circumstances and pitied him. Truly, he felt lucky and was more than relieved._

_"I am forever grateful and in debt to The One for his mercy and willingness to have redeemed a wretch such as me," he said, feeling almost overwhelmed. "I still cannot fathom it and I never will."_

_"There is more," the woman remarked._

_"What is it?"_

_"The Valar wish to reward you for your bravery and selflessness."_

_"Me being forgiven and allowed to dwell within the Undying Lands is reward enough. I am lucky indeed and I will never ask of anything again."_

_"No, Anardil, listen to me…"_

_Her tone was serious but she still smiled. Anardil was befuddled but he needed to know what more she was to say. He remained silent but eyed her, quietly encouraging Aredhel to continue._

_"They permit you to return to Middle Earth," she said. "They are granting you the opportunity to go back and be with Isilmë."_

_He was as still as a statue. He even caught himself wondering if he even heard those words correctly. Briefly, he entertained the thought that maybe the higher powers and fate might've been attempting to test him again. But he remained unmoving and silent, unsure what to say, do or think. This was most unexpected and he had no idea how to react. It was too strange and generous for his comfort._

_"Anardil," she beseeched, seeing the hesitation and vexation in his eyes, "I speak the truth. They will send you back to be with her. They know she was on your mind when you carried out your final actions. I know you love her dearly. Despite the influence of Sauron, you fell for her and she for you. She could see there was far more to than what most perceived and believed. She wanted to stay with you when you wanted her to leave for her own safety."_

_"I cannot go back knowing you are here," he said. Dread befell his face and he rested his forehead against hers. "I cannot abandon you or forsake you, Aredhel. I already committed one black sin against you by murdering you. I cannot commit another and leave you. I refuse to abuse you further. I am a most horrid husband, allow me to correct it this time."_

_"You love her therefore you must be with her."_

_"I do love her. I love her deeply but I also love you… If she had not borne your likeness, I do not think I would have fallen for her."_

_"That is why she was so like me in appearance. It was to stir you and awaken your long sundered nature. I think this was a machination of the higher powers but I know not for certain."_

_"I cannot accept this gift of the Valar for I know it will hurt you…"_

_"Anardil, I have been here for a long while. I do not mind. All is well and we have already been parted for so long. My life and my purpose is fulfilled. If you go back, you will see me again. We will not be parted forever, my sweet. Look at us now. We finally met again and we will be in each other's company once more. Do not despair. We were separated long ago and the Valar are granting you a boon for your labors. You would be very foolish if you did not accept their gift. You will not hurt me."_

_"I love you, Aredhel… There is a place for you in my heart that Sauron could never deface. He could never totally remove you from my being. I may have forgotten who you were but I never forgot your face. I never failed to recall it. There must've been a reason why that was the case, my love."_

_"Of course there was. And look at what has happened." She grasped onto his hands and held them in her own. "Our being together in life was not meant to be beyond what it was, Anardil. True, I love you dearly and deeply… That is why I want you to go back to her. Be with her, live with her, laugh, love, share… Recall Finwë and Míriel, my dear. Finwë lamented her when she lost her will to live but his heart found love again and he wed Indis. There is no sin or shame in pursuing her. The Valar are willing to allow this to happen. I am happy for you."_

_"This is all no trick? This is no fantastic illusion?"_

_"Do not be so suspicious and silly." She laughed lightly. "Do not fret and be afraid of anything. Your life was cut short and ruined by that token you accepted. Though you accepted it with good and noble intentions, it cursed you. But you have changed your fate and enabled peace to take root."_

_Very much, he desired to see you again. But he was torn. He loathed to break Aredhel's heart and make her wait again. He was confused and fearful of accepting and somehow choosing incorrectly in some unforeseen way._

_"This was sanctioned by them," she asserted. "You are not a coward, Anardil. I know you are not one. But you are afraid to hurt others because of your actions. You will not hurt me. The promise of seeing you in the future is enough for me. Please… Be with her. That was what you wanted when you were alive and pure. You wanted to live and to love. The opportunity is being handed to you. You already made one correct choice. Do not be afraid to make this other one."_

_His heart did greatly desire it. To able to pick up where he left off, to fulfill that which had sought… There was no denying it. Already, he missed and desired you as well. Though he told you to look ahead and carry on with your life, he was unable to fully turn his back on you either. He knew that even if the Valar didn't extend their generosity to him, his thoughts would be on you always._

_And he caught himself pondering if he could wait. If he didn't have a choice, of course, he would abide by it. But if he was not forbidden, then he was hopeful and desirous._

_"Aredhel," he said softly, "please, think not of this as betrayal…"_

_"Never," she promised. "I want you to do this. I will never lament or hold envy in my heart for I am happy to see you happy. You deserve her as she deserves you."_

_"Then I shall return."_

_"There are some other things you also must be aware of. There are certain conditions."_

_"Let me hear them."_

_"You are to live a life of peace and goodness. You must not live as you once did under Sauron's thrall. You must not pursue power for evil or selfish purposes."_

_"I accept it."_

_"And if you are to return, your knowledge and power of sorcery will be stripped of you. You will no longer be able to practice such fell things again."_

_"I accept it."_

_"You will indeed be mortal. You will experience hunger, thirst, heat, cold, fatigue, illness, ache and you will bleed... You will be as vulnerable as any other Man."_

_"I understand."_

_"You must also know this… Anardil, you are of the line of Elros, therefore, your life is long. You are a relic of Númenor. You may live a few centuries. Isilmë will not live as long. She will die before you. She is indeed descended from the Faithful of Númenor but she cannot live centuries like you can. Are you willing to watch her wither and wilt? Are you willing to remain by her side as she draws her last breath? Will you stay with her?"_

_The thought carved into his heart. But he knew it was inevitable. If he was to return, he knew it would be unescapable. There would be no denying the unavoidable. He would have to make peace and prepare for that inevitable, grim day. This was Ilúvatar’s gift to Men anyway._

_"Aredhel, I recall I married you for love long ago," he answered. "You were not of noble blood either. I specifically remember disobeying my brother's command to wed a distant relation to keep the line pure and long-lived. I took your hand regardless of that reality and I shall do it again in this scenario."_

_She nodded and smiled warmly at him._

_"I am glad to see you are ready to seize this," she said._

_"May I ask of one thing?" he wondered._

_"Yes, my sweet."_

_"If I am to go, send my back in the form that she knows and loves me as. She loved me despite my wickedness and frightening countenance. She saw through it. Send me as in the shape of the Witch-king of Angmar but with the heart, mind and soul of Anardil, prince of Númenor. That is how she remembers me. I have endured that appearance for so long, I do not mind living in it."_

_"If that is what you wish, they will do it for you."_

_"What else must I do? Must I meet with Mandos so that he may hear what I have told you?"_

_"Nothing. The Valar have heard everything through me and that is enough. Now that you know of what is expected, are you ready? Are you ready to return to her?"_

_Life was many things, that much he realized. It was good and bad. There was joy and sorrow. Only in Valinor was there perfection until that too had been marred by the antics of Morgoth. If he had followed the demands of the offer, hopefully, he would return to it._

_Upon returning to Middle Earth, he knew he would witness many things. He would experience happiness but there would also be woe. He would know of hardships but be comforted by blessings. Life would not be life without both the positives and the negatives. That was the law of it._

_But he was poised. He was ready to accept all of it. For as long as he had you, he was prepared._

_"I am ready," he finally remarked._

_"But before you return to her," Aredhel forewarned, "there is something that needs done first. Have patience, my prince."_

_Aredhel drew closer to him and pressed her lips atop his. Tenderly, she kissed him and the recovered prince returned the gesture to her. He shut his eyes, basking in it and being comforted by the warmth and softness of her mouth. They remained locked in it, remembering one another and the shortness of their time together._

_Brief, cruel but genuine. And he did not regret it._

(…)

He remembered stirring and waking up on a few separate occasions but they were so brief. All he knew was that he was warm and safe. Thus, he could rest and recover from the treachery in the woods. He recalled waking up to drink some water and taking a few bites of bread but then falling back to sleep. His body was worn and weary and he hurt all over. He almost died.

But on this day, he felt his strength come back to him. On this day, when he stirred and awoke, he didn't feel the urge to slumber again. He felt as if he could stay awake far longer.

He could hear the sound of the wind howling outside. Sleepily, he turned his face up to the window above the bed, seeing snow flying past. Even though he was covered with furs and blankets, an involuntary chill swept over him. No longer was the cold his element and neither was he invulnerable to it. He was indeed mortal and it could kill him. That and his wounds almost succeeded.

The Man formerly known as the Witch-king of Angmar stirred, sitting up in the bed. His body ached and hurt him but the pains were duller than anything else. He knew it would take some time for him to make a full recovery. He had been stabbed and shot by the Men the King gave to escort him. They did not believe him to be changed and they sought to slay him...

As his sleep-addled eyes became clearer, he looked around the room. Candles were lit and it was clear he was in someone's bedroom. There was a bookshelf in the far right corner of the room. There was a wash basin that sat atop a small desk by the door. Next to the basin were some fresh, clean, linen and cloths that were neatly folded up. The room was quaint but it was comfortable and welcoming. On the back of the door was a map of the West of Middle Earth.

He could hear soft, muffled noises, most likely voices coming from an adjacent room. He could hear footsteps on the floorboards. There were multiple people in this house.

Suddenly, the door opened up and he beheld a figure in the doorway. It was that of a young man, a boy who was either thirteen or fourteen. In his arms he bore a tray that held a pitcher of water and a plate that bore buttered bread and a hearty bowl of beef-vegetable soup.

He studied the boy, recognizing him after a few seconds. Anardil laughed quietly and nodded at his brother-in-law.

"Venarion, my boy," he said. "You've grown up! It's a delight to see you!"

"Isilmë, Angwen!" the lad called to his sisters. "He's awake!"

Venarion set the tray of food and drink down and walked over to the bedside. He pulled up a stool and sat next to the bed.

"Last time I had seen you, you were so small and meek," he reflected. "You delighted in exploring the cracks and crevices of Minas Morgul and sticking to your oldest sister's side. Now look at you. You're becoming a fine, young man."

"Thank you, sir," Venarion smiled. "I try. It's been three years."

"Tell me, my boy, how long has it been since I've showed up here?"

"About a week. You showed up just before winter just like you promised you would."

"I've been sleeping for a week?"

"Yes, sir."

"Call me Anardil. That is my true name. Let us be on a first name basis, I insist. After all, I am your sister's husband and I am especially not your lord and master. We are family."

His attention to Venarion was diverted when he heard the two women approach. Though it was unseen, there was a large, joyous smile on his face.

"My sister-in-law and my wife," he addressed. "Ah, the circle is complete. Come forth, let me see you both."

"I suppose no man can kill you after all," Angwen teased as she smiled at him. "It looks like that old prophecy still applies to you."

"I almost did indeed die in those woods. But three ladies and a lord saved me in the end."

You were so relieved to see him alert and speaking. Dutifully, you and your siblings tended to him, dressing his wounds and feeding him. He recovered more and more each day but it was obvious that it would take some time for him to return to his full strength. The injuries he sustained would've easily killed a normal Man but you knew that since he was an actual, living Númenorean Man, he wouldn't be slain so easily. He was hardier and could take more punishment. And as a member of the line of Elros, he was even harder to destroy.

There was no doubt in your mind that he would rebound from his injuries. All he needed was good food, warmth and rest. You just only hoped he had the patience to remain still and let his body heal itself.

"You came for me even before you realized who I really was," he said, speaking to you.

"I thought you a stranger," you admitted. "But when Sûlkir arrived, covered in blood and looking frantic, I couldn't ignore it. That is not who I am."

"Then I am most lucky." He fell silent, reflecting on how it could have ended far differently. He would be deceased and unable to fulfill the life the Valar had entrusted to him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Aside from being stabbed and shot at by my assailants, I feel fine I suppose. Despite sleeping for a week, I still feel drained but I am far more alert now." He chuckled lightly. "All three of you seem to be alive and well and I am happy to see that."

"We're fine," Angwen stated. "But we must know how you're here. Did you not die in the destruction of Mordor? We saw the firestorm from afar… it was massive and horrific."

He remembered his last moments as a Nazgûl far too clearly. He threw the Ring into the liquid flames of Mount Doom. He overthrew Sauron at the cost of his life. He burnt away to nothing as the volcano erupted and the other members of the Nine joined him in liberating death.

"I died there," he confirmed. "But when I passed to the Halls of Mandos, I thought I was to stand before the figure of the ruler of those Halls. I thought I was to be judged. But that was not the case. When I arrived there, he bade me to meet someone from my first life." He leaned backwards, resting his head on the headboard. "It was Aredhel. She was there to greet me and send me off."

You blinked when you realized whom he spoke of. It was his first wife.

"She told me that the Valar desired to reward me," he continued. "They would reward me for my sacrifice and free choice to destroy Sauron and myself in the process. They would permit me to live a life with you, Isilmë. But it would not be unconditional per say… I would resume my existence as a mortal Man. I would know of heat, cold, ache, hunger, thirst and all of those sensations. I would be stripped of my sorcery as well and I would be forbidden to pursue power for selfish reasons. And they bade me to live a good and unselfish life. Of course, I accepted those terms."

"You passed up eternal happiness with her in the Undying Lands?" you asked, somewhat shocked by what he said.

He was silent for a few moments. You could tell that he was struggling with whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

"I offered to stay with her at first," his voice was soft and quiet. "I thought it was unfair for her to wait for me again after we had been separated for countless years. Isilmë…" He sighed. "I still love her."

Visibly, Angwen bristled when he said those words. You were mildly alarmed as well but you set your hand on your sister's lap, urging her to stay herself. You refused to have her lash out at him.

"She was my first wife, she was the woman I loved first," he explained. "But she insisted I return to you. She said that her work was done long ago and that it was…destined to go no further. But as I spoke with her, the more I knew. It pained me to realize it but she was right."

For awhile, you knew that Aredhel held a special place in his heart. After all, her face and memory were the only things he recalled while he was in the service of Sauron. She was like a candle in the blackness. Not even the Dark Lord could completely subdue her existence from his mind. Aredhel was ingrained in him. And you knew it was that because of her, you survived and you fell for him. Without her unknowing influence, you knew things would have ended far differently.

"I knew that my place was with you, my queen," he spoke. "A life with you, even a mortal, finite one, is something I cannot decline. I would rather have you for some years than none at all."

"So you are mortal," Venarion reiterated, "but why do you have the shape of a Wraith? When we tended to your injuries, your body was unseen but luckily we were able to see and dress your wounds."

"Because that is how your dear Sister remembers me. She loved me despite it. And I would happily don this shape for that is what she is familiar with. I have adopted this form for so long, I do not mind baring it for some more time."

"But the letters…" you huffed. "What were you doing in Gondor?"

"She said I could not return to you immediately. Something needed to be done before I could reclaim you. When I reopened my eyes, Aredhel was gone and I found myself standing before the White Tree in Minas Tirith. I was quickly seized and brought before King Aragorn. I learned that a few years had passed already when I was in the Halls. Over two years had passed since my demise in Mordor. At first, he did not know what to do with me. Some of his advisors had clamored for my execution. They said such evil relics of the past needed to be destroyed and no longer had a reason to exist in this new Age. Though I was the one who destroyed the Ring, they refused to acknowledge it. They still saw me as the right hand of Sauron. Aragorn refused their petitions but was unsure of how to tread with me in his halls. But she…"

He folded his hands together. The being fell quiet again as he recollected her. The blizzard outside howled but the inhabitants of the room were safe and warm.

She was, in fact, his far distant kin. During those long, conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning, he remembered more of his past. He remembered whom he was and he knew whom she was in return. He and Arwen were long sundered cousins.

"The Queen, she spoke long with me and we discussed many things." His tone was nostalgic and full of fondness. "I told her of my circumstances and how I was able to return to Middle Earth. I was moved but motivated by her choice to forsake her Elven blood and choose mortality with Aragorn. She addressed the council and court of the King and they were swayed by her words and wisdom. She interceded on my behalf. Their desires for my death seemed to be appeased by her influence. In fact…" He laughed gently. "She was the one who encouraged me to write to you and I am glad I did so. I suppose me coming to Gondor first was a trial of sorts. I was frightened in the beginning but I won the friendship of the King and Queen and I gained a valuable companion in Sûlkir. I remained with them for some time to regale everything I had from my past. I even helped the keeper of the archives, Amrod, with filling in some of the blanks with knowledge that had been previously lost."

You felt indebted to the pair for having treated him so well. You had hoped Aragorn would have honored him for his selflessness and hand in ruining Sauron and his dominion and you were happy the King did such a thing. He sheltered him and stayed the court members and Men who demanded his blood. They protected and consoled him while you were not there.

”And I bonded with Sûlkir during my time there,” he said with a smile in his voice. “I am shocked she warmed up to me so quickly. I just found it ironic she was able to trust me more easily than my fellow Men could. And Aragorn entrusted her to me when I departed.”

”And it was fortunate that she accompanied you,” you said. “If she didn’t follow you, perhaps you would’ve succumbed.”

”She is well? She attacked one of the Rangers who tried to kill me. She was nearly killed as well but obviously she was able to meet you and guide you to me.”

”She is fine. I wrote to the King, explaining the whole situation and the condition I’ve found you in. I also had Bree’s sheriff come to the scene with me to report it all. Sûlkir left about two days ago so I am hoping the King will quickly respond to my letter.”

He sighed in relief and nodded his head. He was most glad to hear that the faithful hawk was unharmed. And it was also most welcome to hear you took matters into your hands while he was resting. It was assuring that he could rely upon you.

"Did they bequeath that sword unto you?" Angwen asked. "I have definitely noticed such a beautiful thing. It is marvelous!" Her eyes lit up and she spoke glowingly of the sword. "It is the most impressive sword I have ever seen!"

"That is Anghûn,” he answered. "The King brought in the finest smiths and swordmakers he could summon and they worked on its creation. And when it was completed and it was presented to me, I swore that I would use it for justice and nothing more. I would never abuse it or use it for evil purposes. But I was forced to use Anghûn to slay the Rangers whom I thought were my companions and escorts."

"They turned on you."

"Although Queen Arwen and King Aragorn spoke on my behalf and encouraged their court members to treat me with dignity and honor, there were others who remained stubborn and suspicious. They still saw me for my previous evil. They perceived me a threat. When it was time for me to leave to reunite with you at long last, the King mustered up a band of Rangers to accompany me on my journey. They were to ensure I would return to you intact. I was only alerted to their betrayal when one of their number had frayed nerves. He shot me in my shoulder. And when they saw me seized with pain, they descended upon me like a pack of ravenous, rabid wargs."

That had explained the desolation and slaughter you happened upon. Sûlkir had led you into the battlefield of betrayal. Although they had numbers and the element of surprise on their side, the treacherous Men of Gondor failed. They managed to severely injure him but if Sûlkir had been faithless and disloyal, perhaps they would have emerged victorious.

"I didn't think I would have to kill again in this life," he sighed, "but I would not let them achieve their goal. And I especially could not let them succeed when the leader of the company told me what he planned to do after he killed me. He meant to arrive at your house, Isilmë. He meant to slay you and your family."

The silence that prevailed in the room was choking and heavy. You and your siblings didn't expect to hear something like that. You perceived the vengeful Rangers would have their business with him and him alone. But you were wrong.

"Some of their number were with Lord Faramir when he found you shortly after you departed Minas Morgul," the Man explained. "Their leader, a Man called Gorlim, was there when you were taken back to Minas Tirith. And he sought to slay you because of your connection to me. He thought you an enemy of Gondor and all free peoples. I could not let Gorlim get away from me despite me bleeding and worn by his treachery. I used what energy I had left and I surrendered his head from his shoulders with Anghûn. I staggered off and collapsed after that. I must have drifted off until you arrived and delivered me from the cold."

"But you are safe here," you assured, wanting to soothe him. "You are in good and trustworthy company. Do not fret anymore."

He reached out and grasped one of your hands. It was still the same, tender way that he always held it. His touch hadn't changed at all and it made your heart glad.

"Angwen, Venarion," he said, "although I am very happy and glad to have spoken with you and seen you with my eyes again, I must ask a favor of you. Please, I must speak to your sister alone. I would like to discuss some things with her."

Without hesitation, Venarion stood up and nodded his head. He turned around and made his way to the door, full intending to honor his request.

Angwen smirked impishly and turned her head to you. She merely winked at you and imitated Venarion's example.

"It is late and I suppose we should be going to sleep anyway," she said. "Goodnight, Sister. Goodnight, Anardil."

She snickered and exited the room with Venarion. Gingerly, she closed the door behind her. You could hear their feet on their floorboards as they walked away from your room, granting the two of you your privacy.

This was something you thought you would never experience again.


	6. Athair Ar Neamh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The both of you have nowhere to go but forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments, people! The chapter title is totally based off the Enya song of the same name. It sorta fits in a way and it sounds absolutely sublime so there it is LOL. Sounds like it belongs in Tolkien’s world for that matter too.
> 
> One more chapter and this little story will be done. Sort of. I'll never be finished with this pairing, it sparks too much joy and serotonin LOL. There will be tidbits/oneshots posted about Reader/Witch-king's life together but that's all they'll be... I THINK.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 6 “ _Athair Ar Neamh”_

"I could tell this was your room as soon as I could discern its features."

You smiled at his words. His grasp on your hand tightened slightly and you could feel his thumb rub the back of your hand.

"I am only happy that you're recovering," you said. "I was very anxious and frightened at first. I summoned Bree's doctor to help us with healing you while you were unconscious."

"I'm sure the poor man got the fright of his life when he received a patient he couldn't see!" He scoffed. "How was that managed?"

"I explained to him you were someone I knew from the East. You were tormented and experimented on by sorcerers and that was how you became what you are now. I suggest you stick to that story I crafted."

"It is far more believable than the former Witch-king of Angmar coming back to life by the grace and goodwill of the Valar…"

You didn't believe he was lying but his tale was simply unbelievable. There was no way even you could dream up something like this. You still couldn't comprehend that he had actually returned. It felt unreal, it felt like a bizarre and realistic dream. He died and yet here he was in your bed and eager to begin anew with you.

But you would accept this blessing of the Valar. They had given him back to you and you would be forever grateful of their mercy. And you would also thank Aredhel for her selflessness and kind heart. She allowed him to return and nursed no jealousy or ill will towards you.

"Here," you said, temporarily pulling your hand away from his. "You must eat. You must be hungry."

"My dear, I don't believe I am," he retorted. "I want to speak with you, not eat." A loud gurgling came from his abdomen and he audibly sighed. His hands folded across his middle and he nodded his head. "My body has betrayed me. Fine."

"It should be easier for you to consume." You left the bedside and made your way to the table that bore the tray Venarion carried earlier. Steam still wafted from the bowl of soup. "Some soup will help to keep you warm and it will help strengthen your body while you still heal."

"That does smell delectable. I am happy I can finally consume my wife's cooking."

"My other sister, Lithwen, was the best cook in the family. I was behind our mother who was the second best. Angwen is the worst."

He laughed.

"I am not deterred," he said. "I still sometimes forget I must eat and drink."

"Then I will be sure you eat as much as you can," you remarked. You brought the tray over and placed it across his lap. "Be careful, it's still hot."

"It cannot be as hot as the fires of Mount Doom, my dear."

The light, cloth gloves he wore plucked up the spoon that sat in the bowl. He scooped up some of the contents and brought it up to his mouth. He blew on the hot fluid for a few moments, attempting to cool it. After doing that, he placed it into his mouth, the food disappearing. Luckily, you could not literally see the food through him. That would be…interesting and alarming for that matter.

You managed to become a better cook with much practice. With your mother and sister gone, you had to provide meals for Angwen and Venarion. It was a trying and frustrating process but you managed to make some dishes rather well. Luckily, soup was one of your fortes. And judging from the delighted noise that came from him and him spooning up another mouthful, this batch of soup was passable.

"The vegetables are from some of the plants we have growing inside," you said. "We try to keep some of them growing even during the winter, we just make sure we are especially careful."

"They're fresh and crisp," he commented. "And this meat is tender and falls apart in my mouth. The broth is rich and flavorful. You've done a wonderful job, my dear."

"Thank you." A blush came across your face. "I'm happy you like it."

He took a sip of water and then took a bite out of the hunk of bread. While he was previously interested in talking, his foremost concern was feasting at the moment. You didn't mind it in the slightest bit. You were only happy that he had an appetite and was hungrily scarfing down what you brought. He was indeed recovering and it put your heart at ease. It was encouraging more than anything else.

In a few minutes, his meal was almost completely devoured. He sopped up what little liquid was left in the bowl with the remaining piece of bread then promptly ate it. The Man rested back, feeling sated and happy with his stomach filled.

"I needed it more than I thought I did," he said.

"I thought as much," you said.

You kissed his cheek and then reached out to grab the tray and remove it from his lap. But before you could do that, you felt his hand on your chin. He sweetly turned your head to face him and his lips fell atop yours.

Unexpected but most certainly not unwelcome.

After a few seconds, he then pulled back, allowing you to remove it. You did that and set it back on the desk. You'd take care of that later.

"So now you know my real name," he said. "I must admit, I'm still not used to being called by it. It is strange but I must relearn it. No longer can I call myself Witch-king or lord or anything along those lines."

"You said you were a prince," you reminded him.

"I was. My kingdom no longer exists. It belongs to Ulmo now."

"I suspected you might've been a member of the royal family of Numenor but I could never find out for certain."

"I was the son, brother and uncle of three kings. Tar-Minastir was my father. Tar-Ciryatan was my older brother. Tar-Atanamir was my nephew."

"But you are still of royal descent."

"I lost my right to the throne long ago. I lost it when I took my ring. And Numenor was destroyed by the arrogance and blasphemy of its inhabitants. I am a remnant of that island but I am no longer its prince. I have no claim to it."

There was a tone of lament and regret in his voice. His form slightly sagged and he appeared downtrodden. The subject was sensitive and dear to him.

"Initially, I took my ring with the intent to overthrow my brother in the future," he explained. "Even before he took the throne, there was something about him that did not sit well with me… We were never close and I was ever in his shadow. He bullied and tormented me when we were both young. I sensed that if he became king, things would be…treacherous. But I was also hounded by my conscious. I wanted to usurp him but I was the second born and therefore the throne wasn't to be mine unless if he specifically passed it down to me. I wanted to be loyal to my family. I wanted to support my brother, the king. My mind was torn apart during those years. I led mighty fleets and armies during his reign and unwittingly fostered the shadow that he introduced. And you know of Aredhel's death. It happened during that dreadful time. Life became sickening and unbearable for me. I was besieged by my sins and evil thoughts. I was wrestling with the villainy upon my finger." He sighed. "I wanted to stop his reign so I could institute my own. I thought I would be a wiser, more gracious, generous and faithful ruler than he was. I would replace him and stop his descendants from potentially ruining Numenor with a dynasty of my own. But I couldn't betray him and I became his attack dog in the end."

It was sobering. During Tar-Ciryatan's reign, the Númenoreans became a fearful and oppressive maritime force. They had enslaved lesser Men and had substantially expanded their territories and influence, so much so that even Sauron was fearful of them. It was jarring to think that he was there when it all happened. And it was even more shocking to realize he directly participated in this evil. It was more than likely that he was more of a fearful and distinguished figure than the actual king.

"Yes, I obtained my power, glory and fame," he continued. "But the price was to be repaid in a way I had never even imagined. My life became more unbearable with each day and yet I could not think to kill myself either. Food turned to ash in my mouth and drink tasted foul. The sun became too harsh on me and I could no longer sleep. I faked my demise by making it appear I was on a boat in a storm. I made my family think I drowned at sea and yet they never found my body. After I forsook that all, I sailed to the mainland and I lingered there for some years before my time arrived. Sauron and the eight Nazgûl all came at once and they collected me. I fought and resisted, trying my hardest to struggle one last time. But that was folly. The Dark Lord broke me and when that happened, he won."

There was bitterness, anger, sorrow and pain in his voice. As much as you sought to interrupt and console him, you knew there was more on his mind. He needed to speak and you would let him. You would only listen and be by his side.

"It was ironic," he said. "I was the last of them to join and yet I was crowned the first and strongest. And the first to join became the weakest of our number. The first became last and the last became first…" His grasp on your hand never relented. He still held it. "Perhaps the most pleasant thing about being a Nazgûl was having almost all of your memories locked away. Now that I am free, I remember everything. I remember the good, the bad, the worst and the most monstrous. The things I did and thought haunt me."

"It is bittersweet," you said, trying to soothe him. "But at least you are regretful of what you done. You are sorry for your past sins. A good man expresses his concerns and insecurities. A horrid man denies all that he has done and he believes he did no wrong despite it all. You realize what you've done and you know it was wrong."

"I believe this is a punishment for my wickedness. The Valar may have gifted me this new opportunity but it is far from unconditional. I remember my two lives all too clearly. I remember my life as the Prince and my most previous one as the Witch-king. And I shall carry those memories until my third and final life is finished."

"You have those memories for a reason. Think of them as a guide and as lessons. They are histories you should never forget and especially never repeat." Now that you knew his real name, it felt so strange and foreign to speak it. But it was liberating at the same time. "Anardil, you are a good man. I know this to be true and I can feel it. I saw signs of it in Minas Morgul. If you weren't one, the Valar would have tossed you into the Void. But here you are…" You smiled despite the tears that dripped from your eyes. "Do not forget your lives but do not let them rule you."

"You've wept too many times for me." He laughed softly and tenderly wiped them away. "I know these are tears of joy but I do not like seeing you cry. It pains me." He drew his face closer and kissed your forehead. "Here, join me... This is your bed, my dear, join me in it."

You blushed and hesitated. A shy smile shone on your face and you shook your head.

"You're still weak and need to rest and recover…" you lightly reprimanded him. "I believe you must wait."

"Oh, you mistake me!" he chuckled. "No, I only want you next to me. I've exiled you from your bed for a week and I shan't be too greedy with it. My intentions are innocent." He kissed you again, this time on your lips. "Join me."

You ignored the warmth in your cheeks and climbed in. Cautiously, you maneuvered yourself into it, trying not to brush against him and risk aggravating one of his bandaged wounds. He scooted aside, moving to accommodate you and grant you space.

Once you settled yourself, his arms came around you, pulling you even closer. You could feel him nuzzle into your locks. He inhaled slowly, taking in your scent and being reassured by its familiarity. He kissed the crown of your head and held you to him, wholly comforted by your presence. The Man was simply delighted to enjoy this ordinary closeness.

And it was also strange to perceive that he was warm. He was not cold like he was when he was a Wraith. He was unseen but he had the warmth and softness of a typical Man. And it was even more unusual to hear the slow but deep rhythm of his heart as your head rested against his chest. It was all so different but it was something you'd happily embrace. For in the end, it was him.

This was so strange but you would happily live with it.

"I was so focused on arriving that I could think of nothing else," he said. "But now that I am here, I am suddenly filled with so many questions and things I must consider."

"Which is?" you asked, looking up at him.

"I must earn my keep. I must adopt a trade and make myself useful. I must earn income and provide for my family."

"We will ponder over that whenever you regain your strength and recover from your wounds. You cannot even work in your state so do not trouble yourself. You must overcome one obstacle at a time."

"While my body might be weary and weak for now, my mind is restless. I will want to come up with a few options by the time I have fully recovered." He hummed quietly. "It should be interesting. I never imagined myself as something like a woodcutter, farmer or anything of that ilk until now. All I know is that I do not want power as it has left a most horrendous taste in my mouth."

"I'm a librarian and I made a decent amount of income when I sold a surplus of apples two months earlier. It is not much but it is something, I suppose. Venarion is seeking an area in animal husbandry. Angwen is still undecided…" You laughed. "She is thinking about asking the blacksmith in Bree if he requires any help in his smithy."

"I have a lot to learn, don't I?"

"Perhaps." You laughed quietly and rubbed his shoulder. "But I will teach you whatever you need to know. I never thought I'd ever have to educate a prince on how to live like one of the commonfolk."

"I admire the simplicity of that life. It seems so much more uncomplicated than what I was used to."

"Not as much as you think, dear. You have to hope that your crops don't fail you, that you have enough supplies stockpiled for lean times… Trust me, it is harder than it seems. But I will teach you about it and we'll get through it together."

"You will also have to enlighten me on something I have been thinking about ever since I returned to this good earth."

"I'll do what I can."

"There were a few times when I woke up and listened to some of your conversations but I always ended up drifting back to sleep minutes later." One of his hands rested on the curve of your body. "You have one friend I would like to meet."

"Of course. Who is it?"

"I believe her name is Veronica. I would very much like to receive some advice from her regarding childrearing."

The treacherous blush returned to plague you once again. Your face felt insufferably hot and you couldn't even find any words to say back to him. You had been embarrassed into silence.

"I would be a horrible liar if I proclaimed it never crossed my mind," he admitted. "I always wanted to be a father. I have caught myself imagining having children with you. They would be so lovely and precious to me. I would cherish each of them with all my heart and soul." He cleared his throat and he suddenly sounded sheepish. "But of course, that will wait. If we are to have them, we must finally consummate our marriage… I-I trust that when I finally feel fit and able, we will fulfill our consummation. And subsequently, possibly after a few tries, we will add to our family. Does that appeal to you?"

Your face softened and you gave him a small, shy smile. The thought never really occurred to you before. You never imagined having a family with him considering the less than ideal circumstances you endured with him a few years earlier. In fact, it was probably impossible to even conceive with him at that point.

But now the circumstances were far different. You had no Dark Lord to fret over. There was no war or threat of everything you knew and loved being defiled. The old Age was gone and this new one was characterized by peace and healing. The long-desired serenity would be cherished and utilized. One would even say that this was a perfect time to start anew. And that included rebuilding families that had been torn and ravaged by the War of the Ring.

Anardil returned and he was once again your husband. There was no other Man whom you would choose to conceive with. It was out of the question. 

"Yes," you answered. "And I suppose we will deal with that whenever we get to that subject…" Your cheeks were still warm. "I would like that."

Tenderly, he set his lips atop yours, kissing you. It was soft and loving and he made no attempt to deepen it. Some shred of him was tempted to do so but he knew it wasn't time just yet. By deepening it, it would cloud his mind and the lowly simmering lust would only grow brighter. He did desire you in many ways and he greatly looked forward to the time when he'd take you. But for now, it would have to wait. Regaining his vigor and strength was the highest priority for now.

"I'm looking forward to everything," he said, still holding you to him. "It will feel strange but wonderful. I feel like I will learn what normalcy is as I spend my years with you. All of it is so foreign and unusual but so long as I am with you, I am content. Let us make the most of our years together. Let us drink, feast, frolic, love and experience all that life will give to us."

"I only hope you will never regret any of it," you said, your smile fading slightly. "That will be a dark day."

"I shan't. Do not even entertain such a dismal and evil thing. I have my wife and I have been granted a generous boon. I know what my life was meant to be and I sabotaged myself. This new opportunity is more dear and blessed to me than you can imagine, my dear. I know we will experience periods of hardship. We will experience both good and bad. But I am not discouraged."

"All I know is that there is no other I would choose to spend the rest of my days with. I was with you when you were tethered to Sauron and I will happily and willingly remain with you until whatever death separates us."

"I shall not abuse your devotion and love. You have my word."

You were not prepared for the yawn that came from him. In fact, it surprised you. As he would continue to remember to eat, drink and recognize bodily sensations again, you would join him. He may have had the countenance of his old life but he was indeed like any other Man. He needed to eat, sleep…and he did almost die. No longer was he so invulnerable.

"Rest," you coerced him.

"I've done nothing but that," he sighed. "I'm tired of being tired."

"You have a valid excuse for that. And as your wife, I say you must rest. You need to regain your vitality and health."

"I must venture out of this bed sometime soon or else I feel my legs will waste away." He hummed softly. "Tomorrow. I'll try it tomorrow. I must."

"Fine. You will have to be careful. I'll have a stick nearby for you to walk with if you are feeling unstable enough."

"I am not that old and feeble." He laughed quietly and rubbed your hip. "Although you do not see me, I can tell you I have no gray hairs. You will not have an invalid as a husband. Besides, that will do you no good if we are to have sons and daughters."

"Go to sleep, dread lord." You smiled although you tried your hardest to hide it from him.

"I will only rest if you join me. Please." He ran a hand through your hair and sweetly kissed your forehead. "You have no idea how long I have waited for this night. To finally share a bed with you and to be able to dream alongside my wife? My nights in Gondor were often fitful and fleeting. Sometimes I was only able to rest more soundly when I consumed a sleeping draught or had wine."

It was on your mind as well. You would happily explore this new element together. In Minas Morgul, there were times when you fell asleep in your chair and you woke up the next day, finding yourself tucked away into your bed. You felt that sometimes he rested next to you while you slept but he could never join you in slumber. His previous condition forbade that. But now it was wholly different. Now this was a luxury the both of you could enjoy.

You lain down with him. He still secured you to him, unwilling to part with you. He sighed softly and you could feel his cheek nuzzle against yours. The tiniest of laughs came from him and he rested his forehead against yours. You could feel his warm breath on you and you rested one of your hands on his chin.

You blinked, noticing something. You ran your hand along his jawline and your shock continued to grow as something became very apparent to you. He felt different. He felt far different than what you were used to. When he was a Nazgul, his face felt misshapen and twisted. But you were surprised to feel what felt like very subtle stubble along his jawline. His face felt fuller and not bony and fell.

"You feel…different," you remarked, stunned.

"My outward appearance and my voice are how you remember me," he said. "But what you feel is how I was so long ago." You could feel him smile beneath your hand. "Quite unusual, isn't it? You're used to cold flesh, unsightly features and a Man perverted by evil."

"It is very much different!" You blinked a few times and then pulled your hand back, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be touching you like that…"

"You are so very wrong." He gently grabbed your hand and rested it on his cheek again. "I love and miss your touch. I shall not shrink from it."

You smiled warmly at him and caressed his face.

"I will have to take time to memorize my husband's new face then," you said, chuckling softly.

"You will have time for that, my queen," he said, yawning again. He kissed your lips. "You will be with me when I wake in the morning?"

"Anardil, there are two things that you can be sure of. First, winter will still be here. And second, I will as well…"

You fulfilled that promise. Each night that you spent with him you promised him two things. One, that you wouldn't leave him while he slept. And second, that you would still be in love with him in the morning. You made those vows plus some others every night for the rest of your days.

Seasons changed and years passed... And the both of you remained in love beyond the ending of the world. 


End file.
